


The Prince of Roses

by goodiecornbread



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Blow Jobs, David Rose Being a Good Brother, David Rose Deserves Nice Things, Hand Jobs, M/M, Modern Royalty, Oral Sex, POV Patrick Brewer, Patrick Brewer is Gay, Patrick Brewer vs. Ronnie Lee, Prince David Rose, Princess Alexis Rose, Queen Moira Rose, Royalty, Sebastien Raine is an Asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:29:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29188575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodiecornbread/pseuds/goodiecornbread
Summary: Prince David is expected to inherent the throne a year after his father's death.Patrick Brewer is an aspiring journalist sent to cover the biggest story from Canada's neighboring kingdom of Rosania. He takes on an undercover role to get closer to the royal family.What could go wrong?Based off of the Netflix film "A Christmas Prince"
Relationships: Alexis Rose & David Rose, Alexis Rose & Moira Rose, David Rose & Moira Rose, Patrick Brewer & Alexis Rose, Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd & David Rose, Stevie Budd & Patrick Brewer
Comments: 13
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Pre-story character death.
> 
> Based off of the Netflix film "A Christmas Prince."
> 
> Co-written with MMJ527

Patrick sat at his desk, looking over the article for the third time. It was terrible. As a junior editor, he was primarily correcting other people's work, which was bad enough when _he_ wanted to be the one published. But when the piece he was going over was so poorly done, it stung a little more. 

He glanced up as Antonio, the author of this particular piece, walked by. He jumped up to follow.

"Antonio! Hey!"

"Busy, Brewer," he growled. Patrick knew he wasn't busy, he just didn't want to listen to any criticism.

"This will just take a second! It's about your piece on the Canadian Short Film Accolades."

"What is it?" Antonio asked sharply, finally stopping.

"Well it's about 1000 words too long, for one." Antonio just raised his eyebrows, so Patrick continued. "And, uh, one of the directors you quoted wasn't there that day."

"Okay. So clean it up."

"That's not cleaning it up," Patrick said indignantly. "That's a major rewrite."

"What's your title again, Brewer?"

"Junior editor," he replied coolly, because Antonio knew. He was just being an ass.

"So your job is to _edit_ , Junior," he snarled. "So do your job." He turned on his heel and carried on down the hall.

"That went well," Twyla said as he made his way back to their pod. She was a junior editor, too, who hired in about six months before him, and they became fast friends. Though anyone could be fast friends with Twyla, she was the sweetest person he'd probably ever met. 

"So you just gonna fix it and let him take all the credit?" Mutt asked, handing Twyla a coffee cup. Mutt did travel and environmental pieces for the magazine, but always stuck close to Twyla when he was in town. Patrick had only known him a short time, but he could tell Mutt was a solid guy. Mostly because he trusted Twyla's instincts.

"That's my job," Patrick sighed as he dropped into his chair. 

"That's the spirit!" Twyla cheered, not catching his sarcasm.

"Brewer," someone called. "Wendy wants you in her office." 

"Hey, you wanted to see me?" He asked from the doorway of Wendy's office.

"Yeah, come sit," she said, gesturing at the chair in front of her desk.

"Listen, if this is about Antonio's article--" 

"What? No, no," she waved him off. "No, what I have for you is more important. What do you know about the royal family of Rosania?"

"Uh, not a lot?" He never paid much attention to the little island nation off the Eastern coast of Canada. Not since high school. "The king died last year, right?"

"Yes, King John." She held up a tabloid paper showing a picture of a handsome, dark-haired man with his arm thrown around a blonde woman in a bikini. 'Prince Playboy' printed in big red letters. "And _this_ is Prince David. There's some kind of interregnum that's about to expire, and no one knows if the prince is going to abdicate the throne or take over."

Patrick nodded along, not really sure where this was going. "Okay. What does this have to do with me?"

"I'm sending _you_ to get the story," she said matter-of-factly. 

" _Me_? Why?"

"Because you're smart and polite and I have no one else." There it was. "Besides, you want to be a writer. Here's your big chance."

She was right. If he was the one to break the story, the opportunities could be endless. "Okay. I'll go."

"Great! Have Mandy book your flight. You'll be there by Monday for the press conference." She motioned for him to leave.

Monday. He had two and a half days to get ready to be _the_ Toronto Now! international affairs reporter. 

Twenty minutes later, Patrick got an email confirmation of his flight. Monday, June 27th, 5:15am, Toronto Pearson to Horace International.

🌹


	2. Chapter 2

The plane landed at the Horace International Airport in Rosania at 10:38am local time. That gave Patrick just enough time to grab a cab to the motel to stash his bags before getting a coffee and heading to the palace for the press conference. Apparently every journalist had the same idea, because Patrick found himself waiting in a very long line outside of the terminal. Did this place only have one cab driver? 

Finally he was next, and a yellow car pulled to the curb. He was hot, exhausted, stiff from the plane ride, and wanted nothing more than to get this day over with. The concierge opened the door while Patrick turned to grab his bag, but when he turned back he found someone sliding into the back seat.

"Hey, that's my cab!" He called to the man stealing his ride. Despite the heat, he was wearing a long camel-colored coat, a blue toque pulled over his head, and dark sunglasses obscuring his face. The man just waved a hand out the window, not bothering to even look at Patrick, who was fuming. "Selfish jerk!" He shouted as the car pulled away. 

Luckily it was only a few more minutes of standing in the sun before another cab arrived.

He checked in at the drab, run-down motel he remembered from the time he came here with his parents when he was a kid. His mom was a teenager when Prince John married Lady Moira, and she had been obsessed with the royal family for Patrick's whole childhood. She even had their Royal Wedding plate on display in her China cabinet next to the one of Prince Charles and Lady Diana.

But Patrick wasn't lying when he said he hadn't kept up with them since high school. The King and Queen had been out of the spotlight once the Prince and Princess started globetrotting with various wealthy heirs, and Marcy hadn't been nearly as interested in them as she was their parents. Still, when he called to tell her about his new assignment, she screamed into the phone and demanded he send her selfies with the royal family. As if that were even possible. 

The man at the front desk of the Rosebud Motel gave him the key to room 8 while Patrick poured himself a cup of crappy coffee. He carried it and his luggage to his room, dropping his bags on the bed and dumping the coffee out in the sink (it really tasted like motor oil) before changing his shirt and splashing water on his face. He headed back out to the parking to the shuttle taking the press to the palace. 

The palace was modest as far as castles go, but still expansive and sprawling into the wooded countryside. The shuttle bus pulled up in front of an ornate door and stopped, a man in a suit handing everyone a Press badge as they stepped off into the cobblestone. 

"Follow the velvet rope to the conference room," he instructed. "Do not stray, do not leave the designated area." 

Patrick followed the crowd up the stone steps and through the carved wooden doors. He remembered coming on the official tour with his parents, but all he really remembered was long, boring corridors and trying to catch a peek at the Royal Family. The marble floors echo just the way he remembered, giant classical paintings lining the walls. The conference room was more modern, with rows and rows of red upholstered chairs facing a small platform holding a wooden podium emboldened with the Royal Crest-- a single red rose blooming on a field of black and white Chevron.

The room slowly filled with other members of the press getting increasingly antsy. Patrick pulled out his notepad and pen, made sure his recorder was ready. Finally a man in a suit (different man, different suit) stepped up to the podium.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the press," he began, "I regret to announce that this meeting has been canceled. Prince David is unavailable at this time. Thank you for coming today, and please accept our apologies about this unfortunate event."

The crowd started groaning and arguing before the man even finished speaking, shouting questions and requests.

"Why is the Prince canceling this time?"

"Is he avoiding the press?"

"Does this mean he's abdicating the throne?"

"King John would have never canceled like this!"

Patrick held up a hand amidst the chaos.

"Yes," the speaker pointed at him. "The gentleman in blue."

He stood and cleared his throat. "When will Prince David be rescheduling this conference?"

"The Prince has no plans to do so at this time. We apologize for any inconvenience. Have a nice day." The man turned and left the room as security started guiding people out.

 _I can't leave here empty-handed,_ Patrick thought. As he stepped back into the hallway, he moved to one of the guards. "Restroom?" He asked. 

The stern-looking woman pointed to a crossing corridor. "On the left," she all but grunted, and Patrick nodded, heading in that direction. When he rounded the corner he removed his press pass and shoved it in his pocket. If anyone asked, he could pretend to be a tourist. Right?

He made his way down the hall which opened into a larger room of suits of armor and other army memorabilia. _What do I do now?_ He really hadn't thought this through. _I should go back before I get thrown out of the country altogether._

He turned around to go back to the shuttle, but a tall, bald man was standing in his way. 

"Are you lost?" He asked in a thick accent. 

"Um, no," Patrick started. "I mean, yes. I, uh--"

"Looking for Ms. Lee?" The man finished. Patrick sighed.

"Yes," he lied. "I was looking for Ms. Lee."

"Come," he beckoned, and Patrick followed. Around another corner, down another corridor, into another large room-- how was it possible to _not_ get lost here?

They came upon a large staircase with a few people speaking in low voices.

"Ms. Lee," the man announced. The woman in the sleek pantsuit turned around. She had short-cropped hair and sharp eyes that looked them up and down. Patrick felt like she was looking into his soul. "He was looking for you."

"Looking for _me_?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"Yes," Patrick answered weakly.

"You the tutor?" 

He didn't know why, but he nodded. "Y-yes. I'm the tutor."

"The agency said you weren't available until the beginning of August," she suspected. 

"Well, my previous position ended early." Patrick had never lied so much in his life.

"So you thought you'd just _pop_ on by?" She snorted. "Lucky for you the Queen was disappointed you couldn't be here sooner. The Princess, on the other hand…" she trailed off. _Princess?_ "Where are your bags?"

"Oh, I left them at the motel." Finally, the truth.

"Ivan," Ms. Lee looked at the man who had escorted him. "Call the Rosebud and have Mr. Anderson's luggage brought over."

"No!" Patrick shouted, startling everyone. "Um, I mean, no _thank you_. You've done enough, Ivan. I can go get them." _And get the hell out of here_ , he added to himself. 

"Later," Ms. Lee told him. "First we'll tell the Queen of your arrival." 

She started up the stairs, and Patrick followed. Terrified.

🌹


	3. Chapter 3

Patrick followed the stern woman to the top of the stairs and down a large hall. 

"The agency prepared you for this assignment, and you are well-versed in your etiquette?" She didn't wait for an answer. "You are to bow upon greeting the Queen, and the Prince and Princess. You are to only refer to them as 'Your Majesty' or 'Your Grace,' unless otherwise directed. You stand whenever the Queen enters the room. And for God's sake, try to wear something a little less…" they both looked down at his clothes: dark blue jeans, a light blue button-up, a braided brown belt and matching brown loafers. "A little less like a youth pastor."

She opened a heavy wooden door and stepped inside.

"Your Majesty," she said aloud, bowing her head slightly. "May I present Mr. Joseph Anderson, Princess Alexis' tutor."

"Your Grace," Patrick said, bowing awkwardly. The last time he bowed was in a Taekwondo class in middle school. 

"Aah, Mr. Anderson!" cried the Queen and she made her way across the room. She was stunning, in a long-sleeved, floor-length gown that looked like it was made from gold leaf. She was wearing a waist-length black wig (the Queen was famous for her hair pieces) adorned with a dainty gold-and-pearl tiara that matched the rings on her fingers. To say that she glowed would be an understatement. "You have arrived in a most timely manner!" She said. "As they say, a prompt passerine procures its meal!"

In front of her, a tall figure in a long tan coat turned towards him. He wasn't wearing a hat or sunglasses, but his face was unmistakable. _Shit._

"You!" He said with amusement raising his eyebrows.

"Uh…" Patrick was at a complete loss of words. 

"I'm sorry," said the Queen. "Have you previously made acquaintance?"

"I believe we have." He turned towards Patrick. "Selfish Jerk, at your service." The Queen gasped dramatically.

"I'm so sorry," Patrick stuttered. "I had no idea, I should never have--"

"Relax, it's fine," a smirk threatened to betray his otherwise serious face. "I dressed down to avoid the press at the airport." Patrick was surprised by his definition of 'dressing down,' since he was clearly head-to-toe in designer clothes. "You can just call me Your Highness." There was a snort from behind Patrick. "Ronnie! How's it going?" He said to Ms. Lee.

"It's going," she replied. 

"Catch up later over a bottle of red? I brought you a '98 Bolgheri." Patrick didn't fail to notice his face soften while talking to her.

"You know the way to my heart, Rose."

"And _where_ is your sister, _Day-_ vid?" The Queen asked impatiently.

"How should I know?" He snapped, plopping into a chair that was probably from the 15th century. "I just got here!" 

"Ugh, Mother, I'm right _here_!" Came a voice, followed by the clacking of stilettos on hardwood. A tall, beautiful woman with honey-blonde curls in an elegant (though very short) long-sleeved dress strutted through a side door. " _Day_ -vid! Omigod!" She flounced over to where he was sitting, sticking her finger out to touch his nose. He smacked her hand away, eyes glued to his phone.

"You saw me like a month ago," he muttered.

"Yeah but that was in, like, _Cabo_. But now you're _home_!" She weaved her hand around his arm and poked his nose.

"Get trampled by a show pony, Alexis," he growled.

"Children, _please!_ " Their mother pleaded. "We have a _guest!_ "

Alexis stood straight up and eyed Patrick. "Ronnie! Who is _this_ little button face?" She asked with a hair flip.

"This is Jacob--"

"Joseph," Ronnie corrected, though the Queen continued without a pause.

"--your newest preceptor!" 

"Omigod _hi!_ " She flounced over and held out her hand, palm down, for Patrick to… kiss? He wasn't sure, but that's what he did, with a polite bow. "I'm Princess _Alexis,_ " she pointed to a solid gold A around her neck. "So nice to meet you, Joseph!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty," he said. "And please, call me Patrick." She gave him a confused look, causing him to backpedal. "It's my middle name? Um, my dad is also named Joseph so everyone calls me… Patrick." That lie sounded plausible enough. Everyone looked convinced. 

"Well, Peter, your unexpected arrival is quite serendipitous," the Queen interjected. "Why don't you begin your lessons this afternoon? Veronica, please provide an updated itinerary for the Princess' educational instruction."

"Ugh, but Mother!" The Princess argued. "I have plans today!"

"That is correct," her mother sniffed. "You have studying to do." Princess Alexis stomped her foot.

"Don't be a little B," Prince David said from across the room. " _Patrick_ here will think he's actually tutoring a teenager and not an almost 30-year-old." His eyes met Patrick's as he said his name, and he could feel his inside start to melt in his solid gaze.

"Ew, David!" She scoffed. "I'm, like, barely 26!"

"You're 28," he replied with a smirk.

"Go swim with sharks, David!" She snapped and stomped out of the room.

"I think it's time to take our leave now, Your Majesty," Ronnie said.

"Yes, thank you Veronica," Queen Moira replied wearily. 

"See you around, _Patrick,_ " the Prince snarked, with a look he couldn't quite place. 

"Um, thank you," he started backing out the door and bowing nervously. "Your Highness...es…"

When the door closed behind them, Ronnie started crackling. "Nice one, Pastor Pat."

🌹


	4. Chapter 4

Patrick followed Ronnie back through the corridor, bypassing the large staircase and into another wing of the palace. She led him into a room larger than his entire apartment. The walls were lined with full bookcases, with leather chairs and study desks in the center. Two identical laptops sat on the desk alongside a stack of textbooks. 

"Is this the library?" He asked in awe.

"No," Ronnie snorted. "This is the study. This is where you'll meet the Princess for all of her lessons." She stepped back into the hall and motioned to the door across the way. "These are your quarters." She opened the door for him, and he stepped into the light-filled room.

It was open and airy, just as classically designed as the rest of the palace, but there was something relaxing about it. The large four-poster bed should have filled the space, but that was only half of the room, with a modest fireplace, a couch, desk and another large bookcase across from it. The wall of windows bordered French doors that opened to a terrace, letting in the early afternoon light. It was beautiful.

"Take a look around. I'll have a driver up in a few to take you around to the motel for your things." She turned to walk down the hall.

"Thank you, Ronnie," he called after her. She froze, then looked at him over her shoulder.

"Nah, you're gonna call me Ms. Lee." The look on her face told him she wasn't joking.

🌹

Patrick stood in the study waiting for Princess Alexis. Actually, he _paced_ in the study. 

When Ray, the overly-chatty driver, took Patrick to the motel, he'd had every intention of ditching Ray and hiding out in his room until Sunday. But of course, he parked and followed Patrick to his room. He quickly repacked his bags, resigning himself to this fate-- he was going to have to spend a week pretending to be a tutor for the Princess of Rosania if he was going to get any information for the article. _Hopefully I can get away after the coronation on Saturday,_ he thought. _Hopefully I make it til then._

Ray took his bags to the car while Patrick went back to the office where he'd checked in that morning. 

"Checking out so soon?" Asked the man behind the desk. 

"Uh, yeah. Something came up." Patrick paid for his one night and headed back to the palace, more nervous this time around.

Now it was 15 minutes past the tutoring start time and the Princess was nowhere. Which was actually good, because Patrick had no idea what he was doing. The stack of books on the desk were run-of-the-mill high school textbooks: geography, algebra, biology, literature. _What am I supposed to be teaching her?_

Finally, he heard the clacking of heels on marble as Alexis arrived to the study. She breezed right past him and flopped into one of the arm chairs with a sigh. 

"Good afternoon, Your Majesty," Patrick said with a small bow.

"Let's just get this over with," she said flatly, scrolling through her phone. She and her brother were more alike than he'd realized. 

"Um, okay." He moved to sit on the loveseat across from her. "Where would you like to start?"

She glanced at him over her cell, surprised. "Aren't _you_ the teacher?" _Oops_.

"Right, yes." He cleared his throat. "Why don't we start by you telling me why I'm here?" Hopefully she couldn't see through him too much.

"Did the agency not tell you?" She asked. "Or Ronnie?"

"Of course," Patrick lied. "I just want to hear _your_ side."

She smiled and set her phone in her lap. "That's so _sweet_ ," she said with a wrinkle of her nose. "So, um, I was at this boarding school in Switzerland? But some friends and I took a semester off. But, like, the _last_ semester." She smiled at the memory. "Um, but Mom found out a few months ago and got, like, _scary_ mad. And now she's making me finish high school." She scoffed. "As if it really even matters!"

"Well, Your Grace, if I may say so, an education _is_ important."

"And I consider myself a student of the school of _life!_ " She waved limp hands around the room. Patrick chuckled softly.

"That may be so, Your Grace, but an actual _diploma_ is necessary." 

She sighed again, but this time giving a little smile. "Call me Alexis," she said.

"Are you sure?" _Ms. Lee would probably kill me if she heard_.

"Positive! Now let's get to it, Mister Teacher Man!" She hopped up and moved to the desk. 

They looked over the itinerary the agency had thankfully provided to Ronnie a few weeks ago, and made a game plan for the next week. He'd almost forgotten that he wasn't _actually_ her tutor. That is, until they looked at the syllabus for chemistry, one of Patrick's worst subjects.

"Let's just stay on one subject for the first few days?" He suggested. "We can start with English."

After only an hour or so, the Princess yawned and stretched. 

"This is getting boring," she sighed. "Let's go for a walk!" 

"I really think we should get through the rest of this chapter," Patrick said uneasily, but then stopped himself. _What am I doing?_ He thought. _I'm not actually her teacher._ "You know what?" He closed the textbook. "You're right. Let's get out of here."

"Yay!" She clapped. "Have you been on a tour of the grounds?"

Alexis led Patrick through the maze of the palace and out into the back garden. They walked down the old stone steps and followed a gravel path that circled the yard.

"It's beautiful out here," he said in awe. She looked around, shielding her eyes from the bright sun.

"It is, isn't it?" She agrees. "I've gotten so used to it, I forget to even look anymore."

A loud _thud_ came from behind a wall of greenery. They continued along their path, but turned off at an opening in the hedges. Another _thud_ hit, closer. Alexis picked her pace, and Patrick anxiously followed, unsure of her plan. 

They took another sharp turn and came upon a small clearing. A target was standing across the way from them, three arrows sticking out of the padding. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood with his back to them, in tight black slacks and a fitted white button-up with a black 'cracked' design. The short sleeves showed off his strong, tan arms that flexed as he pulled back on the bow in his large hands. He released and an arrow sailed gracefully through the air, hitting the outer ring of the target. 

"Good one, Robin Hood," Alexis snarked. The man whipped his head around, his meticulous black hair staying perfectly in place. His dark eyebrows pulled down in a tight scowl. 

"What, are _you_ following me around now, too?" Prince David snapped at his sister. She looped her arm through Patrick's.

"We were just out for a promenade," she smiled. The Prince glanced at Patrick, who blushed. He opened his mouth to correct her, but Alexis spoke again first. "Who's been following you?"

"Who hasn't?!" He exasperated, free hand waving wildly. "Ever since I got back there's always _someone_ watching me to report back to Mom."

"She's afraid you'll run off again," Alexis said quietly, inspecting her nail. She shook her head slightly, as if to shake the thought away, and looked up with a new smile. "So what are you doing out here like a little knight of the round table?" 

"I'm practicing my archery," the Prince replied, turning away from them and grabbing another arrow from the quiver on the grass. 

"Well _duh,_ David! I mean _why_?"

Prince David shrugged. "It's very centering. It calms me." He released the arrow, which landed 2 inches left of the previous one.

"Does it calm you to be so _bad_ at it?" She teased. He glared at her with his piercing brown eyes.

"Why don't _you_ try then?" He demanded, walking over and shoving the bow into her hands.

"Um, you _know_ Dad didn't teach me," she said. She handed the bow to Patrick casually. "You try." 

Patrick delicately held it. It was different from the one his dad had taught him to use all those years back, but a bow was a bow.

"I'll give it a go," he said, looking Prince David right in the eye. The Prince cocked an eyebrow and smirked. 

He moved aside for Patrick to step forward and select an arrow, feeling its weight in his hand. Patrick pulled back until the string felt taut in his fingers, set the arrow, aimed and released. The shaft flowed smoothly through the air, landing perfectly in the center of the bullseye.

"Oh my God, _Cupid_!" Alexis squealed, jumping up and down and clapping.

"What the hell was _that_?" Prince David asked, chiseled jaw dropped. 

"Been bow hunting with my dad since I was a kid," Patrick answered sheepishly. He really hadn't been trying to show up the Prince. Had he?

"Well aren't you the jack of all trades." The Prince's look of shock morphed into a smirk.

"You have no idea, Your Highness," Patrick replied, matching his intense stare. Why was he flirting so hard? He was the crown prince of Rosania, whom Patrick was supposed to be covering for an article. This was wildly inappropriate. So why couldn't Patrick stop?

"Okay, my turn!" The Princess shouted, breaking his concentration. She plucked the bow from Patrick's hands, nudging her brother to move out of the way. "Love this on you, by the way," she said, tugging playfully on his sleeve.

"I'm just glad to be in my own clothes and out of that pedestrian attire I had to wear," he groaned. _Pedestrian?_ That coat he'd been wearing cost more than Patrick's plane ticket, he was certain. But he had to admit, this monochromatic palette was _much_ more suitable for the Prince. 

Alexis snorted and squared her shoulders, notching the arrow and pulling back on the string.

"You're not holding it right," the Prince told her.

"David--"

"No, you have to put your fingers _here_ \--"

"I'm perfectly capable--"

"But you're not doing it right!"

The Princess started to turn towards Patrick, the string still pulled taut. "Patrick, tell my brother that--" as she spun and moved her hands wildly, the arrow released into the air and soared out of sight.

The three of them stood in complete silence as the sound of glass shattering came from outside the hedges.

"Aw, what the hell?" Ronnie shouted from afar.

"Shit!" Alexis swore, dropping the bow like it was a snake.

"C'mon!" Prince David whispered, grabbing his sister's hand and dragging her towards the target. She grabbed Patrick's hand, squeezing tightly and yanking him along, too. 

When they got to the wall of shrubbery, Patrick wasn't sure what they were going to do. But then the Prince ducked under a small opening near the corner, leading his sister and Patrick through into the open field. They sprinted towards the stable, holding tightly to each other and laughing, not knowing who might be chasing them (if anyone was at all). 

A large door was open on the side of the barn, and they ran in, ducking behind a half-wall of an unused stall, finally releasing each other's hands.

"Oh my god," Alexis giggled as she caught her breath.

"Was anyone even following us?" Prince David asked with panted breath. 

Patrick stood and peered through the doorway. The grounds looked empty. "I don't think so," he laughed. He looked down at the royal siblings hiding behind the wall. "I can't believe you just ran through a field in stilettos," he mused. 

"I've run further in higher heels!" She teased, but Patrick had a feeling it was true. 

"Hello?" Came a deep voice from behind them. They all jumped and cursed, turning to see who was there. A tall, tan man looked at them with a smile that reached his eyes. "Can I help you with something? Or are you just _horsing_ around?" He laughed at his own joke.

"Who are _you_?" Prince David asked, standing from his crouched position and brushing nonexistent dust from his pants.

"I'm Ted! Mullins. The new Stable Master?" 

"What happened to Miguel?"

"Oh, um, I think he was let go," Ted explained. "I guess the Queen wasn't very fond of his, uh…" he raised his hands to his chest, intex fingers pointing outward.

"Oh, yeah, Mom didn't like his nipples," Prince David supplied. "He was always shirtless for some reason."

"I thought it was nice," Alexis scoffed.

"Mom?" Ted asked, finger-nipples still at attention. His eyes grew wide. "Oh, my god! Your Majesties!" He bowed down deeply. 

"Aww, you can stand up, _Ted_ ," she said, flouncing over to him. "I'm Princess Alexis!" She offered her hand to him the same way she'd offered it to Patrick that morning. " _So_ lovely to meet you."

They continued to chat, and Patrick turned to the Prince, who was eyeing his sister. "So did the last guy really go around shirtless?" He asked. 

"Yeah," Prince David sighed. "I'm gonna miss him." He glanced at Patrick and smirked. Patrick was close enough to see a small dimple hidden in his 5 o'clock shadow. He looked back up, realizing that the Prince had seen his eyes wander. Patrick looked away, blushing.

"Alexis," Prince David called, still looking at Patrick. "We should get back if you want to have time to get ready for tonight."

The Princess looked over at her brother, who finally tore his gaze from Patrick. "Yeah, you're right," she pouted. She looked back at Ted. "It was so nice to meet you!"

"The pleasure was all mine, Your Grace," he replied, kissing her on the hand again. She giggled and blushed, hurrying back over to the other two men. She looped her arms between theirs, linking them together again and leading them out the barn door.

"What's tonight?" Patrick asked when they stepped back into the sun.

"Torture," Prince David grumbled.

"Just some cocktails with esteemed guests!" Alexis corrected.

"'Esteemed guests' who just want to get on Mom's good side," her brother complained.

"Are you coming?" She asked Patrick.

"Do I need to get on your mother's good side?" He teased. "But no, I wasn't invited."

"Well now you are!" She declared. 

"Alexis," the Prince warned.

"What? I'm the _Princess_! I can bring a Plus One!" 

"Fine," he sighed. _Does he not want me there?_ Patrick thought. _He probably thinks I'm one of his mother's spies._

"I really don't have to go, Alexis," he said, fully aware of the Prince's surprise at his casual use of her name.

"You absolutely do!" She told him. She pulled him closer and laid her head on his shoulder. 

The Prince watched them closely for a moment, before glancing away. Patrick wished he had the courage to meet his gaze. 

🌹


	5. Chapter 5

Patrick stood with his back against the wall, watching elite members of government and royalty mingle. He was in over his head, he knew it, but at least he didn't look it, thanks to Alexis. When she'd come by his room to escort him to the tea parlor (he had asked Ms. Lee for a map of the palace and she walked away laughing), the Princess had declared his button-up/jeans combo to be less than appropriate for cocktails with the Queen. Luckily she has access to a wardrobe of designer clothing in all styles and sizes, and apparently _loves_ to play dress-up.

"Button!" She exclaimed when he stepped out of the walk-in closet. "You look _hot_!" 

Patrick blushed, turning to look at his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. She was right, he _did_ look good. He was dressed in a green, V-neck cashmere [sweater](https://www.saksfifthavenue.com/product/saks-fifth-avenue-collection-lightweight-cashmere-v-neck-sweater-0400012959835.html?site_refer=NPLA_GGL_Shopping&country=US&currency=USD), paired with a pair of charcoal gray fitted pants. Obviously none of it was tailored, but it spoke to the quality of the cut by how well it fit his body. The slacks elongated his legs, and the cashmere clung perfectly to his chest and arms without being too obscene. 

Alexis walked up behind him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "He's gonna love this," she said quietly, looking his reflection up and down. 

Patrick's cheeks burned red. "What?" 

Alexis giggled. "Don't think I haven't noticed the way you look at my brother," she teased, turning around to head to the door. "C'mon, we don't want to be late!" 

So here he was, the barely-invited wallflower, sipping expensive champagne and trying not to act as out of place as he felt. He watched various members of local government greet the Queen and mingle amongst themselves, selecting hor d'oeuvres and drinks from passing wait staff. 

"Stay away from the jellied meat," came a voice from beside him. He looked over to see a petite, dark-haired woman leaning against the wall next to him. "But the crab puffs are good." She stepped forward and snagged two cakes from a tray, handing one over on a cocktail napkin. 

"Uh, thanks," he said as he accepted the offer. She wasn't wrong, these were delicious.

"So you Patrick?" She asked casually. He furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"Because you're the only other person here who doesn't look like they ooze wealth," she told him matter-of-factly. "I'm Stevie, and I'm not one of them either." 

A tall, handsome man walked in, somehow looking artfully disheveled in his tailored suit and partially unbuttoned shirt. He strode up to the Queen, who looked dazzled to see him, and kissed her hand. Stevie groaned next to him.

"That's Lord Sebastian," she explained when Patrick raised an eyebrow. "He's a complete douche, hardly anyone can stand him."

"Looks like the Queen does," he pointed out. She snorted.

"Only because he pretends to be charming and flatters the wig off of her. The Queen _thrives_ on compliments."

As if hearing their conversation from across the room, Lord Sébastien turned and walked around the room, heading straight for them.

"Stevie," he purred. "Looking beautiful as always."

"Eat a dick," she spat. He smirked at her, then looked Patrick up and down. 

"Who's your friend?" The Lord asked Stevie, then turned back to Patrick. "I'd love to take your photo some time. You have this certain provincial _je ne sais quoi_."

"And you're full of _merde,_ " Stevie replied.

"Stevie, ever the lady," he sneered. "Come find me later," he said quietly to Patrick before strutting away.

"He seems nice," Patrick replied sarcastically.

Stevie huffed out a laugh, grabbing a plate and loading it with more crab puffs. "He's the fucking worst." 

They stood side-by-side against the wall, while Stevie ate and pointed to various guests and told their secrets and drama. Sébastien was a particularly heinous ex of the Prince's, once upon a time (without the happily ever after). After the King died, and Prince David ran off, Sébastien proposed to Alexis, making his motive of wanting to be as rich and famous as possible quite obvious. Luckily, while being flirty and flighty, the Princess wasn't interested whatsoever in inheriting the throne, let alone being so cruel to her brother. 

The goofy, painfully cheerful woman and her pot-bellied husband with a mullet were Roland and Jocelyn, the Viscount and Viscountess of Schitt's Creek. Apparently they were distant cousins of the late King, and were the current second in line for the crown in the event of an abdication. It was the Queen's biggest fear-- not that her son would step away from his duty, but that Viscount Roland would become King.

A short, tan young woman who looked somehow both aloof and all-seeing, clung to the Princess, whispering gossip together. Klair, the Duchess of Albany, was another cousin, on the Queen's side. She and Alexis have been attached at the hip since childhood, but thankfully the Princess seemed to be outgrowing her troublemaking friends as of late. 

He soaked it all in, making mental notes for his article. 

"And how do you know all of this?" Patrick finally asked. "If you're not, you know, one of _them_." 

"Because I've been a fly on this wall for years." She looks up at him with a smirk. "I'm David's only friend." 

"Aah," he replied, as if that made any sense. 

The Viscount looked up and grinned. "Davey! I was wondering when you'd show!"

Patrick looked up to see the Prince walk into the room, everyone's eyes on him. He was wearing a perfectly tailored [suit](https://media.gq.com/photos/5dc5fe6bc3636800085b0ccb/master/w_1200,c_limit/dan-levy-gq-best-stuff-cover-2019-06.jpg), textured black on black that reminded Patrick of an M.C. Escher drawing. He could barely breathe, unable to move his eyes from this walking piece of art.

"Sorry I'm late, Mother," he said to the Queen. "I couldn't find my cufflinks."

"No matter, Dear," she replied, touching his face. "You're here now." 

Patrick watched as the Prince greeted guests, mingling and shaking hands and plastering on a very fake smile. After making a circuit around the room, he strutted up to where they were standing and snatched the plate from Stevie.

"Hey, that's mine!" She growled.

"Mine now," he said through a mouth full of puff. She reached for the plate, but he held it up over her head and out of her reach. 

"Fucker," she muttered, kicking his shin.

"Ow! Fuck!" He lowered his hands, giving Stevie the chance to grab back her plate. "You fucking gremlin," he hissed, rubbing his leg. "I could have Ronnie throw you in the dungeon for that."

"Kinky," Stevie smirked. "Too bad you don't even have a dungeon. And we both know Ronnie would be on my side."

"You look nice, by the way," the Prince said, looking straight at Patrick. "I like the sweater. Is it Yves Saint Laurent?" Alexis' words swirled in his head. _He's gonna love it._

"Uh, I'm not actually sure," Patrick admitted. "Alexis dressed me."

"Of course she did," he replied coolly.

"You on a first-name basis with the Princess already?" Stevie said with a glint in her eye. "You move fast, Professor." 

"Oh! No." _Shit_. Patrick knew how this might look. "It's not like that--"

"Sure, sure," Stevie waved him off with a wink.

Just then, Alexis came over, throwing her arm around Patrick's elbow. "Ugh, Mom's cocktail parties are the _worst,_ " she grumbled.

"No, _Klair_ is the worst," her brother replied, eyeing her proximity to Patrick suspiciously. Patrick almost wanted to say something about the casual contact, but what would he even say?

"Actually, Klair talking to _Sebastian_ is the worst." She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "He keeps asking if you're planning on stepping down _at_ your birthday party, or before."

"Yeah, he said the same to me," Prince David sighed. "Or if I had some 'unfortunate little concubine' ready for a Royal Shotgun Wedding."

"Fuck that guy," Stevie muttered.

"Too late," he replied, picking up a champagne flute and downing it. "Stevie, shall we escape this circus and smoke a little royal weed?"

Stevie's eyes lit up. "Though you'd never ask!"

They walked off, leaving Patrick standing there feeling like an idiot.

🌹

"So let me get this straight," Mutt said over a video call. "You're sneaking around the castle, get caught, and they offer you a job?"

"Just like my Uncle Terry!" Twyla interjected. She was sitting on Mutt's couch, tucked in his arms. "When he got caught after his lab exploded, the warden gave him a job as a custodian!"

"Not quite the same, Babe," Mutt corrected, but Twyla just shrugged and gave a bright smile.

"They didn't give _me_ a job," Patrick said, answering Mutt's original question. "They gave Joseph Anderson a job. But they think I'm him."

"Oh, did you tell them you weren't?" Twyla asked.

"Uh, no," he admitted. "I didn't want to get thrown in the brig or whatever."

"I think that's pirates," Twyla mused.

"So now what?" Mutt asked. 

"Now I am… pretending to tutor the Princess." It sounded like a wild lie, but luckily his friends knew him well enough to skip past the skepticism and right into help mode.

"Wow," Mutt said, eyebrows raised. "That's quite the career change."

"Think of all the intel you can get now!" Twyla cheered. "Have you told Wendy?"

"I sent her an email," Patrick sighed, flopping back into the bed. "What am I gonna do?"

"Use this opportunity to write the best article ever?" Twyla offered.

"Get ahead in your career and finally leave junior editing behind?" Mutt added.

They were right. After Prince David left the party with Stevie, Patrick felt suddenly more unsure and uneasy than before. He was here to get the story on the Prince, so it shouldn't matter if they got along or not. So why did Patrick want so badly for Prince David to like him? He escaped to his room and called his only friends who might be able to talk him down, but they didn't seem to understand. It's not getting information that was the problem, it was trying to not look like a fool in front of him. Or worse, looking like he was interested in Alexis.

🌹

Patrick sat in the study, sipping what was likely the most expensive cup of coffee he'd ever been offered, and waited for the Princess. She insisted that no tutoring lessons began before 10, which had given Patrick plenty of time time to stress himself out. After a fitful night of sleep on the world's most comfortable mattress, he awoke with the dawn and went for a run around the grounds. Thankfully he'd packed sweats and running shoes, assuming the hotel would have gym accommodations. He never expected the _motel,_ let alone the palace. 

He hadn't wanted to bother any members of the staff, so he found his way outside and headed off along one of the worn paths. By the time he'd circled the grounds and found himself back at the large stone steps, the sun was higher in the sky and his T-shirt was clinging to his chest with sweat. 5 miles and a heart rate average of 136 beats per minute, according to his smart watch. 

Alexis came sauntering into the study ten minutes late, sipping on a green smoothie, with a perky grin.

"Good morning Mr. Brewer!" She said cheerily.

"Good mor-- oh." Shit. Shit shit shit. He was found out. He looked at her with panicked eyes. "How did you know?"

"I have my ways," she said with a wink. "Patrick Brewer the Toronto Now! junior editor with dreams of becoming a real-life journalist." There was nothing malicious in her eyes, though.

"Listen, I'm sorry," he sputtered. "It was a misunderstanding and then I got in over my head and I'm so sorry, let me just leave, please know that this was never my intention, I was gonna leave on Sunday anyway, I've never done anything like this, I was just--"

"Button! Relax!" She placed a kind hand on his arm to calm him. "I don't even care! Well, like, a little. But don't worry. I'm not going to go running to Ronnie or anything."

His shoulder sunk. He hadn't even thought about Ms. Lee. "Okay, I'm just gonna get my things and--"

"Patrick," Alexis interrupted. "I'm not making you leave."

"You're… not?"

"No! In fact, I was hoping you'd stay?"

"Why?" This wasn't making any sense. 

"Well for one," she explained, "I'd like someone to write something about my brother that was remotely true."

"Unlike all those tabloids?" Patrick had only just met the man, but he knew the Prince David portrayed in the headlines was nothing like the real one.

"Exactly," Alexis agreed. "If things are going to be published about him, he deserves it to be the truth."

"I couldn't agree more."

"Plus," she continued, "we can just hang out and _not_ do any school stuff. And sometimes we can go do other stuff in the village, and no one will know we're playing hookie." 

"I still don't understand why you want to keep up this charade."

The Princess sighed. "Okay, so I like you! Like, not like that. You're cute and all but, um, no. But you're nice and sweet and honest with me and funny and you make my brother nervous and you seem to be genuine and not just being nice because of what I am."

 _What did she just say?_ "I make your brother nervous?"

She gave him a devilish look. "You know you do." Actually, he didn't. "Patrick, please don't leave yet."

Against his better judgment, Patrick said, "Okay."

Alexis jumped up and clapped. "Oh, _yay_!"

"So what do we do now?" He asked apprehensively.

"Well _you_ can do whatever you want," she smiled. " _I_ have an appointment at the stables." And with that, she was off.

Patrick finished his coffee, trying to process the last five minutes and contemplate his options. He drained the rest of his mug and set it on the tray by the door, where the housekeeper instructed him to leave any dishes to be picked up on her next walk-through. Then he headed down the corridor, looking for nothing (and _no one_ ) in particular.

🌹

Patrick heard it before he saw it: the haunting sound of a grand piano flowing through the palace.

He followed the sound like a siren's call, hearing it grow louder as he got nearer. Finally he came upon the door to a parlour of some sort. There, at a shiny black grand piano, sat Prince David. His brow creased in concentration, biting down on his lower lip, he looked like one of the statues that adorned the gardens. He was beautiful. 

Patrick stood just outside the doorway, listening to his expert fingers playing a vaguely familiar song. It was so full of emotion, it made him want to cry. 

Too soon for his liking, the song ended, final notes echoing around the large room.

"I know you're standing there," the Prince said without looking up from his sheet music.

Patrick stepped into the doorway, blushing and embarrassed.

"If you're looking for my sister," Prince David continued, "she isn't here."

"I'm _not_ looking for your sister," Patrick said meekly.

"Oh."

"Alexis is having a riding lesson right now."

Prince David looked up skeptically. "Alexis has been riding since she was four."

"You know that, and _I_ know that," he smirked. "But I'm pretty sure _Ted_ doesn't know that."

"Yeah, that tracks," the Prince gave a small smile. "So why are you spying on me?"

"I was…" _hoping to find you_ , he finished in his head. "...following the sound of the music." He cleared his throat. "You play beautifully."

"Well when you have the hots for your sister's piano instructor, you pick up a thing or two." He laughed. "Actually, Ronnie found us making out on the balcony and fired him. My punishment was continuing lessons with Stevie's aunt Maureen. She always smelled like Malboros, but damn she could play."

Patrick laughed along with him, picturing a young, but no less handsome, Prince David brooding over a piano. 

"Was that Beethoven?" He asked.

"Debussy," the Prince corrected. "[ _Rêverie._](https://youtu.be/ouYT5OEPfRI)"

"Shot in the dark," Patrick admitted with a chuckle.

"Do you play?"

"I took lessons after Sunday School with Mrs. Currie for about three years," he said, "but not really. I can play a _mean_ 'Blue Suede Shoes,' though."

"Come here," Prince David said, scooting over him patting the bench next. It was then that Patrick realised that he had been moving closer and closer, and was now standing right next to the piano. He tentatively sat down, a suspicious eye on the Prince to make sure this was okay. Their thighs were touching hip to knee, and Patrick felt like he was on fire.

"Put your fingers right here," he instructed. "Play the notes like this." The Prince pressed down an octave higher: ring finger, index, thumb. Again and again, creating a simple tune.

Patrick copied, playing the deeper notes just the way Prince David was. After a few times over, the Prince removed his left hand and placed his right hand further up on the keys. He began to play a faster tempo, upbeat, long fingers moving fluidly with no effort at all.

They played for a short time, but as the song picked up Patrick became increasingly distracted by the Prince's talent and elegance. His fingers stumbled over the keys, abruptly ending their beautiful duet.

"Sorry about that," Patrick muttered.

"Don't be, you're a natural." The Prince bumped Patrick's shoulder with his own.

"What song was that?"

"[ _Prelude to the Well,_](https://youtu.be/PXMVkQ70I88)" Prince David told him, and when Patrick didn't recognize the name he added: "Bach."

They sat totally still, touching at knee, hip and shoulder, making unbroken eye contact. The longer he looked into the Prince's piercing onyx eyes, the less he felt like he could breathe.

" _Day_ -vid!" Came a screech from the hall. "There's an emergency!" Prince David looked away, towards the door. Did he just sigh?

"What is it?" He called back to his mother.

"It's Grace!" The Queen came storming into the room, clutching her chest. "She put Krista and Robin next to each other and now they're completely disagreeable! And mere hours away from the benefit!" 

"Who are Krista and Robin?" Patrick whispered.

"My mother's wigs," the Prince replied with a deep eye roll. He stood and took the Queen's arm. "Come on, Mom, you know Krista is just being precocious." She just sobbed dramatically into her son's chest.

At the door, Prince David paused and looked back.

"See you later," he said quietly, walking away before Patrick could respond.

🌹

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the left-handed part of 'Prelude to the Well' isn't QUITE so simple, but let's pretend it is.


	6. Chapter 6

That afternoon, Patrick climbed into a horse-drawn carriage. Like, an actual carriage. Which made sense because he was in an actual kingdom, with an actual Prince and Princess, riding into an actual village for an actual royal event. 

The royal siblings seemed bored during their short ride from the palace, but Patrick felt like a kid at Disney. Not only was the countryside beautiful, but there were so many historic places along the way, full of the deep history of North America's only monarchy.

At the center of the town, they dismounted, stepping out into the busy street. There was a small market, local vendors selling their art, and crowds of visitors filling the village square. Prince David disappeared immediately to find Stevie, so Alexis took the opportunity to take Patrick’s arm and walk him around the festival. 

"David has been into art for, like, his whole life," she explained. "So when he turned, I don't know, ten or something? Dad set up this whole big _thing_ for him for his birthday." She waved a limp wrist around at the bustle.

"He set up a _festival_ for your brother's interest in art?" Patrick had known that Rosania was known for its many kingdom events, but he had no idea that some were inspired by the royal family. 

"Of course! Dad always did thoughtful stuff like that," she looked at Patrick with a sad smile.

"It's okay to miss him," he whispered. Alexis pursed her lips and nodded fast with a soft 'mmhmm.' Patrick could tell she was feeling emotions and wasn't quite comfortable with them, so he quickly changed the subject. "What about your birthday festival?"

"Oh!" Alexis' eyes lit up. "So I love to travel and I have, like, a _zillion_ friends all over the world. So Dad had everyone flown in for my birthdays, and they brought their friends, and it just became this whole international networking thing for young cool people." She scrunched up her nose with a proud smile. "You _totally_ have to come next year!"

"I'll see what I can do," he said honestly. If he wasn't caught and exiled.

They walked around the festival, checking out art pieces and snacking from vendors. 

"Dad wanted something fancier, but David threw a fit and _insisted_ on soft pretzels and carnival food," Alexis explained as she posed for a selfie with some teenage girls.

"Well you said he was ten, right?" Patrick asked, taking a bite of funnel cake. Alexis had wanted one, but after a small nibble she handed it off to Patrick.

"Uh, that was when he was 22," she scoffed. Patrick let out a laugh, imagining a young Prince David demanding corn dogs and elephant ears.

Alexis giggled and dragged him along, pausing for photos and shaking hands with members of the public. They circled the village and ended up at the tall stone building where they were dropped off by the carriage, moving to stand off to the side of a small stage that had been erected. A crowd of reporters and photographers huddled at the front. 

Queen Moira took the stage, suddenly in her natural habitat of being the center of attention. She was wearing some sort of a skirt/jacket combo that was all angles jutting out from shoulders and hips, patterned in large black-and-white geometric shapes. Teetering on insane high-heeled ankle boots covered with rhinestones, she made her way to the microphone.

"Salutations to _all_ on this, such a _lovely_ midsummer post-meridian!" She announced, using a black-gloved finger to brush a lock of pink hair from her eyes. "As you are preemptively aware, this day of merrymaking is in honor of my eldest offspring, Prince David of Rosania!" She raised her hands, clapping in front of the mic. The crowd cheered along with her. "My late husband, the _exceptional_ and _unrivaled_ King John, actualized this fete as a representation of his _incomparable_ love for his first born. Prince David has exhibited a love for the arts since he was but a bébé, _blundering_ about the palace in search for _inspiration!_ The King began to accumulate various _artistes_ to display their creations, and thus commenced the first annual Rosania Arts Festival!" The crowd cheered again, the Queen placing a grateful hand to her chest to receive their praise before continuing. "Once the Prince was ready to advance his education in attendance at the New York University school of Fine Arts, the King and I discovered just how precious it is to _reach_ for the proverbial stars! It was in that moment that the Rosania Fine Arts Scholarship was conceived, which has grown into a beautiful foundation in which we may provide advanced education to those who most deserve it!" She led another round of applause. "And now, without further ado, I present my son to speak on his father's behalf, about the importance of art, education and dedication on this little planet we call home. Prince David!" She stepped aside, making room for her son to take the stage.

But he didn't. 

The Queen stepped forward again. "Prince David!" She repeated. 

The crowd started murmuring amongst themselves at the absence of their Prince.

"Does this mean he's not taking the throne?"

"Where is he, Your Majesty?"

"Is the Prince even _in_ Rosania?"

Patrick felt nervous for Alexis and the Queen, who both looked shocked and confused. He turned to the Princess, opening his mouth to offer some sort of support, but she spoke first. 

"I know where he is," she said in a hushed voice. She grabbed his arm and pulled him behind the partition separating them from the crowd. They entered the stone building through a side door, no one giving them a second glance.

"Is this a school?" Patrick asked as they wandered down a brightly-colored hallway, each door decorated with construction paper art.

"Yeah, this is the public school," she replied. "David and I never came here, we were sent off to fancy boarding schools for the kids of world leaders and rich CEOs." She led him into a stairwell that reminded him of his own high school back in Ontario. They walked to the third floor and exited into a corridor flanked with lockers, neat and clean but without the vibrance of the first floor. 

"This level is the secondary school," Alexis supplied, reading his mind. They could hear voices from the other end of the hall, but it was too far to make out any distinctions. 

"This is where your brother is?" Patrick asked. He believed Alexis, but it seemed so unlikely that the partying Prince playboy would be spending the afternoon in a high school. 

"Yeah, he and Stevie escape here every year." She replied with the wave of a limp hand.

"He skips his own festival?" 

The voices grew louder, and Alexis finally stopped Patrick in front of a classroom door. She pulled him closer to the wall and indicated for him to peer through the window into the room. When he leaned forward, he saw something he never expected.

In the center of the room, on a table, sat Stevie, legs crossed under herself, eating an apple. A circle of teenagers sat in chairs, looking at her with notepads, sketching. Prince David also drew, his back to the door, sitting at a two-person table with a young girl. 

"I can't get my shading right," the girl groaned. "I keep giving Stevie a mustache."

The Prince leaned over and looked at her pad. "No," he said, "you got her mustache just right." The kids giggled and Stevie chucked her apple across the room at the Prince, who ducked it.

"Don't be a dick in front of these young, malleable minds," she growled, a smirk betraying her face. 

"We're working on realism," Prince David told her. "Not my fault that you inherited more than the motel from Aunt Maureen." He set down his drawing and stood, turning to retrieve the projectile fruit. He bent to pick it up, and his eyes met Patrick's through the window. He raised an eyebrow. "Came for art class?"

"Came to see where you ran off to," Alexis said, stepping into the doorway. 

Prince David lifted his arms to gesture to the room. "You've found me." 

"Hey, fellow peasant," Stevie said, nodding her head at Patrick. "Came to see how the other half live?"

"Yeah, I was starting to forget how to brush my own teeth," Patrick said deadpan. Stevie smiled and hopped off the table. 

"You missed the speech," Alexis said, pointing a painted fingernail at her brother. "Mom is gonna be so pissed."

"Fuck," he said sharply. The students started giggling.

Stevie gasped. "Prince _David_! I am appalled at your language! In front of the _children_?!"

"Eat paint chips, Stevie," he grumbled, throwing his pad and pencils into a bag. He turned to the group of teens who were packing up too. "I'll see you guys later."

"Thanks, Your Majesty," one of the boys in the back said. 

The four of them walked back into the hall and headed to the stairs.

"So do you teach a class here?" Patrick asked. Stevie and Alexis burst into laughter.

"Can you _imagine_?" Stevie giggled.

"David as a teacher?!" Alexis added.

"Okay that's enough out of you two," Prince David snapped, pushing hard through the double doors.

🌹

Patrick wandered the halls, trying to get more acclimated to this museum the royal family called a home. He'd spent most of the evening working on his article, compiling his lists of notes and uploading the candid shots he'd snuck on his phone. 

So far he didn't have much more than an opening paragraph. He still wasn't sure if the Prince was planning on taking the throne or not. Patrick could tell after one day that the Prince David in the tabloids couldn't be farther from the real one. But did _he_ even really know the real Prince? He felt like he'd barely scratched the surface, and yearned to dive deep.

He was surprised by how interested he was in getting to know the Prince, looking for him in every room, hoping they'd have more time to talk like this morning at the piano. This was just how it felt to be a _real_ journalist, getting close to the story. Right? 

He wasn't paying much attention and ended up in a wing he had only walked through once. He almost turned back when he heard the Queen shouting.

" _Day-_ vid! You _know_ how important today's felicitations were!"

"Yes, and as I said before, I'm sorry I missed it," came the Prince's voice. Patrick backed against a wall, listening. 

"What could have been so distracting that you _neglected_ your duties on behalf of the crown?" The Queen didn't sound mad, so much as she sounded tired.

"I was spending time with some potential art students," he told her honestly. "You know, 'connecting with the people.'"

"That is all fine and well, but as _King_ you cannot disregard your responsibilities with such _little_ consideration!"

"Mother." Prince David's voice was even and serious. "I am not going to be King."

Patrick took in a sharp breath.

"So you keep saying," his mother sighed. "But I know you will do the right thing and step up for your duty." There was a long pause, and Patrick wondered if one of them had left. Then the Queen spoke again, quietly and defeated. "You cannot allow that buffoon Roland to become the new king."

"I had this conversation enough times with Dad, I'm not having it with you," the Prince said sternly. "Goodnight, Mom." 

Patrick quickly made his way back to his room before he could be found, but the Prince's footsteps moved in the opposite direction. 

Once he was back in his own space, Patrick collapsed on his bed. Prince David had no intention of becoming king. Why not? What had he been talking to his father about? And why didn't he tell anybody else?

🌹

"Button!" Alexis' voice echoed down the corridor. They still met every morning in the study, to keep up the charade, before making other plans for the day. "I hope you have some summer clothes, because we're going to the beach!"

She wasn't kidding. Patrick traded his button-up and jeans for a Toronto Blue Jays t-shirt and a pair of khaki cargo shorts and followed her downstairs. At the foot of the stone steps sat a small black vehicle, like the high-class cousin of a golf cart. Alexis hopped in the driver's seat and patted the one next to her.

"C'mon!"

Patrick reluctantly climbed into next to her, and she immediately took off with a squeal of the tires.

"Isn't this thing just the cutest!" She said as they passed the stables. She craned her neck to look behind them. "Oh, there's Ted! Hi, Ted!" She waved at home from across the pasture.

"Alexis," Patrick cried as the cart edged towards the shoulder of the path. She turned back around. 

"Oops!" She giggled, straightening out the wheels. 

They drove a little farther, then veered to a smaller dirt path that forked from the trail Patrick had been running. It led them through a small wooded area before opening up to a clearing along the cliff face. A small sandy beach sat tucked within the rocky shore. 

Alexis parked the cart and grabbed a bag from the back seat before marching out towards the water. Patrick helped her lay out some beach towels and weigh the corners with rocks. When he turned back towards her, she was peeling off her light sundress to reveal a bikini underneath. She put her large, floppy hat back over her effortless curls and dug through her bag to withdraw a bottle.

"Do my back?" She asked, and he obliged, coating her with tanning oil. "Your turn!" She told him, holding another tube and tugging at his shirt.

"No, that's fine," he said, slightly embarrassed. 

"Patrick, a farmer's tan looks good on exactly no one." She gave him a very serious look. "I will not allow you to only sun half of your arm." 

Patrick laughed and pulled off his shirt, throwing it at the canvas bag.

"Besides," she added, "this is SPF, like, a million for your baby skin."

Once they were both lotioned up, they lay out under the warm rays, listening to the calm of the waves on the sand. Patrick was almost asleep when he heard someone.

"What the fuck?" Prince David shouted. Patrick sat up, letting his eyes adjust to the bright sky. "Alexis, what the fuck?"

" _What,_ David?" She demanded, not moving from her place on the towel.

"I told you I was coming here today! To be _alone_!" His voice was getting shrill and Patrick had to fight not to smile.

"Oh, was that today?" She asked innocently. "Oops." 

Prince David glared at her, even though she wasn't looking.

"It's a beautiful day, Your Grace," Patrick said. "You should join us."

He marched over and threw down a bag next to Patrick. "I'm not joining _you_ ," the Prince snapped. " _You_ 're infiltrating _my_ personal time."

"Whatever, David," Alexis sighed. "I had George pack a cooler, so there's snacks in the cart." 

Her brother stood there a moment longer, looking pissed. "Fine," he muttered and stormed back to the vehicle.

Alexis sat up a little and winked at Patrick. "Bring me a pellegrino!" She called after her brother.

After they snacked on goat cheese and fruit, and drank sparkling water, Alexis declared she was going to get into the water.

"Come in with me!" She begged the boys.

"I don't swim," Prince David sneered into another cracker and cheese. 

"I don't have my suit," Patrick told her.

"So? Bathing suits are basically underwear. Just take off those little utility short things and come in!"

He had to admit, he was feeling pretty confident. Between the sun and the snacks and the company, Patrick was feeling untouchable. He jumped to his feet and dropped his cargo shorts.

Alexis whistled with two fingers in her mouth. "Look at you!" She cheered, and Patrick blushed in his dark blue boxer briefs. "It's getting _too hot_ out here," she teased and ran down to the water. 

"You coming?" Patrick asked, turning towards Prince David. 

"No."

Patrick shrugged and headed towards Alexis. The water was cold, but not as frigid as he had expected, and soon he was up to his knees in the clear blue sea.

"Get your royal butt out here!" Alexis called out to her brother.

"C'mon," Patrick added. "The water feels great!"

The Prince stared out at the horizon for a moment before turning to look into Patrick's eyes. "Fine," he shouted.

Patrick couldn’t help but watch as Prince David unbuttoned his white linen shirt, revealing a toned and tan chest, with dark hair lightly sprinkled over his pecs, a thicker trail heading into his waistband. Patrick took a few steps backwards, getting into the deeper water as the Prince took off his black baggy pants, revealing small black swim briefs.

"Ow _ow_!" Alexis shouted as her brother got closer. "Is there any more where that came from?" 

"I'm still wearing more fabric than you," he snapped. "Besides, I just got back from Rio. And I thought I was going to be _alone._ " 

Patrick just nodded, brain completely focused on not getting an erection in his underwear in the water while looking at the almost-naked Prince of Rosania.

"We should play a game!" Alexis decided.

"Um, there are three of us," Prince David said in an annoyed tone. "How could we _possibly_ play a decent game with an odd number of people?"

"So next time bring Stevie," she replied. "Then we could play, like, volleyball or chicken or something."

"You know how busy she is at the motel this week, with all the fucking press in town." 

Patrick swallowed down the lump in his throat and turned towards the bay.

"I bet I can swim to that buoy first," he challenged, spotting a red object floating on the horizon.

"Um, no thank you?" Alexis giggled. "But I am _all_ for this little display of masculinity, so I'll be your little flag girl."

The three of them stepped out onto the sand, feet still in the waves, standing in a line. Alexis held her hat in one hand, waving it above her head. 

"Gentlemen, on your marks," she started. "Get set…. Go!" She waved her hat frantically as the two men sprinted into the sea.

As soon as he was waist-deep, Patrick dove forward into the water. He burst through the surface and moved into a freestyle stroke, using his strong legs to propel himself forward. 

_Stroke, stroke, breathe. Stroke, stroke, breathe._

He let himself go in the rhythm of the swim. Just like running, the calm that came over him was therapeutic, giving him a chance to let go of any stress or tension he might be holding onto.

He must have been getting closer, he'd been swimming forever. Patrick took a chance to pause and shake the water from his face, focusing on the buoy only 20 or so yards away. What surprised him was the dark haired man hanging off of it.

Patrick laughed to himself and swam the rest of the way over.

"About time," the Prince taunted as Patrick grabbed on to the metal bar.

"I really thought my one semester of swimming my sophomore year was gonna pay off," Patrick said, catching his breath.

"Didn't count on my four years on the varsity water polo team, huh?" 

"I definitely did not," Patrick laughed.

"So you _weren't_ letting me win because I am the Prince?" He teased.

"Hadn’t even crossed my mind," Patrick said honestly.

"Aah, you just wanted to swim behind me see you could watch my ass in the water," the Prince said with a (flirty?) smirk.

"Is the water clear even enough for that?" He quipped before he had a chance to blush.

They clung to the buoy for a few minutes, catching their breath and floating on the gentle waves.

"Ready for a rematch?" Patrick asked at last.

"Hell no," Prince David laughed. "I am _not_ in the shape I thought I was. I just used all my energy to make it here."

Patrick laughed, looking to the shore. Alexis was standing on the beach waving her hat back-and-forth, trying to get their attention.

"I think she's yelling at us," Patrick said, "but I can't hear what she's saying."

"She talks too much anyway," the Prince replied, pushing off the buoy and treading towards the sand. "It will be good for her to have no one listen for a while."

Patrick pushed off, too, and the two started the leisurely swim back to Alexis. When they finally touched dry land, however, the cart Alexis had driven was gone, as was her bag and towel. All of Patrick's stuff was still on the beach next to David's.

"Looks like she got tired of waiting," Prince David said, climbing down on his beach towel. Patrick had to make an effort to _not_ look at the golden god laying before him. "You can ride back with me later. I parked under the trees."

Patrick looked to the line of forest where their path emerged and saw another small vehicle nestled under the shade. 

He laid himself down on the towel next to the Prince, making sure to be face down to prevent any awkward situations (Patrick _was_ still in his boxers, and Prince David was sprawled out in tiny briefs). 

"What were you planning on doing here alone?" Patrick asked, getting settled in the sand.

"Get some sun, maybe write a little," the Prince sighed. "I mostly just wanted to think."

"Sorry we crashed your afternoon."

Prince David turned to look at him. "Well, _Alexis_ crashed my afternoon and dragged you along," he said honestly. "But I'm glad she did." 

Patrick gave him a little smile.

"And," the Prince continued, "you can just call me David."

Patrick's eyebrows rose. "Okay, David," he said softly.

🌹


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally these boys get some time together!

"No offense, but this is the creepiest portrait I've ever seen."

"Oh, none taken. I hate this thing."

Patrick and Alexis were standing in front of a huge painting of the royal family. It was _literally_ larger than life-sized.

"I think your mother's eyes are following me," he said quietly, as if the Queen could hear him, too.

"Oh yeah, she paid extra for that," Alexis replied solemnly. Her phone buzzed and she looked down, typing out a message. Moments later, David burst through the doors.

"Why in Mariah's name are you in _here_?" He demanded. "This is literally the creepiest room in the whole castle."

"Yeah, so?" Alexis rolled her eyes. " _You_ were the one needing help to hide from Mom."

"Well she definitely wouldn't look here," he agreed. He turned to look up at the portrait. "Why do you look so weird?"

"Ugh, David, _you_ look weird!" She slapped his arm. 

"Well I was 24 and on that cayenne pepper cleanse," David snapped. "Oh wait, that's _not_ you!"

"Um, of _course_ it is?"

"No, you were out of the country when Dad had this commissioned," he told her. "He had a housekeeper sit in and just added your face later."

"Oh my god I forgot about that!"

"Where were you?" Patrick asked. 

"She was in rehab," David replied quickly.

"I wasn't _in_ rehab," Alexis scoffed. "I was _at_ rehab. Visiting Stavros."

"That's not better."

"So why are you hiding from your mom?" Patrick asked, hoping to change the subject. 

"Because she's trying to torture me," he lamented. 

Alexis rolled her eyes at her brother's dramatics. "She invited Roland and Jocelyn to lunch," she explained. 

"Which is bad enough," David sighed. "I don't need to meet with them beforehand."

Though no one said it, Patrick had an idea of what the luncheon was all about: getting David to see that the Viscount was unfit to rule and that he shouldn't abdicate. It was clever, and sneaky, but Patrick doubted it would have it's desired outcome.

"You're coming, right?" Alexis asked.

"Um, I wasn't planning on it," Patrick admitted. "It's just for you guys and the Viscount, right?"

"Mom won't mind!" She promised. "You _have_ to come!"

"You want me to just crash an invitation-only luncheon with the _Queen_?" Patrick hoped saying the ridiculous sentence out loud would deter her.

"Obviously," Alexis replied in an annoyed tone.

"You really would make it more bearable," David added quietly. 

Patrick pretended to think on it for another minute, so it wouldn't seem like that was all the convincing he needed (it was).

"Okay, fine, I'll go."

"Yay!" Alexis cheered, jumping and clapping. "What are you going to wear?"

Patrick looked down at his everyday ensemble, gesturing.

"That will absolutely not do," David said with one eyebrow raised.

Alexis nodded. "Let's go play dress-up!"

🌹

"Sweater or shirt?" Alexis asked, looking at a rack of options. 

"Button-up," David answered. "A sweater is completely inappropriate for this situation."

"But _you're_ wearing a sweater," Patrick pointed out.

"Ooh, _burn_ , David," Alexis snickered.

"My aesthetic is specially curated and has taken _years_ to perfect," David snapped at them. "My sweaters are part of my _image_ that people have come to _expect_." He ran his hand up and down his body to accentuate his point, the sparkly material on the front of his sweater shining in the lights.

"Okay, so no sweater for me," Patrick agreed, holding back a smile.

"Short or long sleeves?" Alexis asked.

"Short, a luncheon is less formal than dinner," her brother replied. 

David and Alexis flipped through a rack of shirts, bickering and disregarding most of them. They finally both agreed on [one](https://www.therealreal.com/products/men/clothing/casual-shirts/gucci-printed-short-sleeve-shirt-w-tags-959gr?position=119), with a small, crowded almost-paisley floral pattern in blue. They paired it with the dark gray pants from the cocktail party, but this time with a white leather belt and a French tuck.

"Button, you look hot," Alexis declared. "David, doesn't Patrick look just _scrumptious_ in this?"

Patrick looked up into the mirror, David's eyes reflecting back at him.

"Yeah," the Prince said quietly, then cleared his throat. "It looks great." He looked away before Patrick had a chance to respond. "We should probably head downstairs."

🌹

Patrick didn't know what to expect from Viscount Roland and Jocelyn. They seemed nice enough at the cocktail party, albeit kind of goofy. The luncheon started civil enough, even though the topic of conversation ranged from cheese ("We would need two more fondue pots for a table this long!") to physical ailments ("Joce's uncle had this _lump,_ you should have seen it!"). After the first course, however, the mood seemed to shift.

"So, Davey," Roland started, "any plans for after your birthday?"

"I really don't think this is an appropriate topic of conversation," David replied coolly. 

Roland raised his hands in defense. "Just trying to make small talk," he laughed. 

"Jocelyn," the Queen interjected, "do tell me, how _is_ your dear sweet bébé?"

"Oh, let me tell you, Rollie Jr. is getting so big! He's three already!"

"Roland _Moira_ Jr." Roland said, leaning over to Patrick. "Named him after our great Queen!"

"And dear friend!" Jocelyn added. 

The Queen had a look of utter disgust, which was probably funnier to Patrick than it should have been. 

"Why not name him after the King?" He asked innocently.

Roland belted out a laugh, despite having a mouth full of food. "Why didn't we…?" He wheezed. "Gee, Joce, why didn't we name our baby after _the King_?!"

"I don't know, Rollie," Jocelyn teased. "Maybe because naming your son after another man might look a little funny!" 

"Wouldn't want ol' Johnny taking credit for _my_ hard work!" Roland chuckled, as if it were the dumbest idea he'd ever heard.

"Well I don't think _that_ would have been an issue," Queen Moira sniffed. 

"I dunno, Moi," he continued. "We all know my wife is a hot piece of ass!" Jocelyn laughed and swatted his arm. 

"I think we can _all_ agree that my father would never cheat on my mother!" David snapped, and Roland went silent.

"Geeze, Dave, we were just joshin' around," Roland replied with an awkward laugh. "No need to get your petticoats in a twist."

"I do not believe discussing _petticoats_ is proper lunch etiquette," Queen Moira interjected. "Let us converse on a more _appropriate_ topic."

The Viscount opened his mouth but David spoke first.

"And nothing about the immediate future of the throne!" He added.

Roland just scoffed and took a huge bite of salad.

🌹

"Well _that_ was a nightmare," Alexis sighed as she threw herself into a chair.

"Is Roland always so…?" Patrick couldn't think of an inoffensive word to accurately describe him.

"Obnoxious?" She supplied. "As long as I can remember."

Patrick's phone started buzzing in his pocket, but he ignored it. It buzzed again. He pulled it out and saw text after text

  
  


> **[Twyla (work)]**
> 
> Have you seen this?!
> 
> http://www.starwatcherz.com/royals/Princess_Alexis_New_Beau_? 

> **[Mom]**
> 
> You never told me you met the Princess! Call me!
> 
> img_PrincessAlexisMysteryMan.jpg

> **[Mutt (work)]**
> 
> Hope your cover isn't blown, dude
> 
> http://www.urfavecelebs.ca/p/Rosania_Princess_Fiance_Scandal 

> **[Wendy]**
> 
> You still owe me an article.

  
  


Shit.

He clicked the link from Twyla first. 

> _Princess Alexis of Rosania has been seen gallivanting around the palace grounds with an unnamed gentleman. Sources close to the royal family confirmed this new relationship._
> 
> _"[Princess] Alexis is head-over-heels for her new suitor," castle insider told Star Watcherz. "They're planning on a surprise wedding at the Prince's birthday celebration on Saturday, and taking over as new rulers of Rosania."_

The second article said mostly the same thing.

"What the hell?" He said aloud.

"What's wrong?" Alexis asked, moving to look over his shoulder. 

"There's _articles_ about us!"

"Oh, yeah," she replied all too casually. "My Twitter feed has been blowing up all morning."

"And that doesn't bother you?" _How could it not?_ But the Princess just shrugged. 

"People have been publishing lies about me since I was a kid."

"If anyone in the media finds out who this 'mystery man' is, I'll be screwed." He felt like he was starting to spiral.

Alexis scrolled through her phone and showed him a picture. "See, you can't even see anything," she assured him. She was right, all the paparazzi photos were grainy and blurry. It was easy to make out the Princess, with her wavy hair and short dresses, but the figure next to her was simply an indistinguishable man. You'd only know who it was if you knew him. 

He still didn't feel any better about it.

"I need to clear my head," Patrick muttered, and left the room. 

He hurried to his room and threw on his exercise clothes. He grabbed his phone and hesitated. No, he needed to _clear_ his head, not fill it with more tabloid lies. It stayed on the bed.

Patrick made his way down stairs and out onto the path around the grounds. It was overcast and cool with a light breeze, perfect for running.

After only a few minutes it started to sprinkle, lightly raining around him, but he didn't care. Let the rain wash away his stress.

Thunder rumbled overhead. The rain came down a little harder, so Patrick ran harder.

Soon it became a downpour. Patrick knew he was close to the halfway point, so despite the weather he kept running, hoping it wouldn't get worse.

The wind started howling, pulling the rain sideways across him. Thunder continued to roll, and as the skies darkened the flashes of lightning became more prominent. 

Patrick started getting scared. He wasn't one to be afraid of storms, but it was getting hard to see through the downpour. 

_Fuck._

He stepped off the trail. It was getting slick and muddy but at least the trees kept some of the rain off. But the wind still cut right through him, and he shivered as he wrapped his arms around himself.

Up ahead, out of the rain, he saw a light. Two lights, actually. They were stationary but at least it meant someone was out here. He hurried towards his savior, careful not to stumble over any fallen branches. There, in front of him, was an electric cart. In the mud. Tires spinning.

"Fuck!"

"David?" Patrick called, and the person looked over.

"Jesus, Patrick, why'd you have to go running in a hurricane?!" 

He laughed. He couldn't help it. He was soaked and freezing and scared and here was David, his literal Prince in shining, sequined armor.

"Stop laughing and help!" David snapped. 

Patrick moved over and tried to give the cart a push while David revved the engine, but it was moot in the growing puddle of mud. The cart was stuck.

"What now?" Patrick asked, shivering.

"Um, I think…" David looked around, but what he thought he could see beyond the sheets of rain, Patrick didn't know. "C'mon."

They made their way through the forest, protected from most of the rain and wind, but the muddy and uneven terrain was almost as treacherous. At last, a wooden cabin came into view.

"In here!" David instructed, grabbing at the door. 

They stepped inside, finally out of the elements, and David switched on the light.

"This was my great-great-something Horace's old hunting cabin," he explained. "Dad had it renovated when I was a kid, added electricity and heat and running water." 

It still had that rustic, Little House on the Prairie charm, but was definitely updated with expensive furnishings.

Patrick pointed over to a large fireplace. "Can we use that?" He asked.

"Yeah, we've got wood in there," David said, gesturing to a large crate along the wall. 

Patrick kicked off his soaked and filthy shoes before crossing the room, packing logs into the fireplace and using smaller twigs as kindling. He lit a long match, extending it into the pile. Instantly the dry sticks lit up, crackling as the flame descended over the larger logs.

"How'd you do that so fast?" David asked.

"Scouts," Patrick shrugged. He stayed knelt in front of the fire, warming his hands.

David walked away and returned with towels, handing one to Patrick.

"I need to get out of these wet clothes," he said, and David nodded, turning away. He peeled his still-dripping t-shirt off and walked it over to the sink, wringing it out. He left it on the counter while he removed his socks and shorts to throw in the sink. He turned around to grab the towel and froze.

David was standing by the fire with a towel around his shoulders, stripped down to tight black boxer briefs, illuminated by the flames. 

"Somehow my phone survived," he said, typing on his screen. "I'm just letting Ronnie know where we are, though I doubt anyone will come get us in this storm."

"Yeah, what the hell happened out there?" Patrick asked, moving closer to the warmth.

"Just a big storm," David shrugged. "They blow in from the Atlantic like this sometimes." He set his phone down on the mantel. "Bring your socks and shoes over here, they'll dry faster by the fire."

Patrick did as he was told, and also took his shirt and shorts and laid them over the backs of the wooden dining chairs, next to David's jeans jeans and black tee. His sweater was laying flat on the table.

"You got way more soaked than me," David pointed out. "Go sit by the fire and I'll find something to eat."

Patrick nodded, grabbing a pillow from the couch to sit on, wrapping himself in a blanket. A minute later, Davis returned with his own blanket, holding a bottle.

"No food, but at least we have this." He handed Patrick a bottle of scotch. 

"Are you trying to get me drunk, your Majesty?" Patrick teased.

"Fine, give it back!" David reached for the bottle but Patrick moved it away.

"No, no," he smiled. "I'll let you share." He took a drink and handed the bottle back as fire tore down this throat. David took a sip, too, and set the scotch on the floor. Patrick had to physically turn his head to tear his eyes as David licked a stray drop from his lips. "So why were you out driving in this?" He asked. 

David paused. "Because it started storming and Alexis said you'd gone out for a run," he said quietly.

Patrick looked back over, this time David was staring into the flames. "You came out here to rescue me?" 

David bit his lips together. "Who goes running when a storm is about to hit?" He asked instead.

"Well I didn't know it was going to storm," Patrick joked defensively. "I just saw those tabloids and, uh, wanted to clear my head."

"That shit about you and Alexis?" David asked. 

"Yeah." Patrick reached for the bottle and took another swig. "I didn't like how it just _assumed_ that…"

"That you were trying to sneak your way to the throne?" David finished.

"That I was trying to be with your sister," Patrick corrected quietly. He didn't have the courage to look up, but he felt David's eyes on him. "I didn't like those private moments splattered all over the internet."

"Welcome to castle life," David scoffed, raising the bottle to his lips. "Everyone wants to know everything, and they just make up the parts they don't know."

Patrick felt heavy with guilt. That was _literally_ what he was doing, using his position to get information to share with the world. He never felt more ashamed of his profession.

"That sounds really rough," he all but whispered.

David shrugged. "It's whatever," he said with false nonchalance. "I'm used to it by now." He took another sip. "I don't care that people take pictures of me around the world, or with my friends. I definitely _used_ to be this big 'Party Playboy Prince' that they call me, but I'm honestly past all that. I travel and visit friends and stuff, but I haven't stayed out all night on yachts, popping E and hooking up with randoms who don't speak English in years." He chucked, knowing how ridiculous it sounded. "I just hate these stories about how I'm abdicating my birthright so I can party. It couldn't be farther from the truth."

"No?" 

"No." David sighed. "My mother thinks I'm being selfish for not wanting to be King. As if I'm putting my own wants and needs before the country. But really, I'm trying to _not_ be selfish, by forcing someone to marry me just so I can be King."

"You think you'd have to _force_ someone to marry you?" Patrick asked.

"Well actually, there's hundreds of people who would jump at the chance," David admitted. _Sebastien_ , Patrick thought. "But they just want to marry the crown. The money and the power and the lifestyle. No one would want to marry _me_."

"I don't think that's true," Patrick said quietly. David glanced over at him.

"I'm not going to marry someone in order to be King," he said sternly. "I'm not putting my _lifestyle,_ or whatever, first. I just refuse to enter a loveless marriage in order to maintain the crown. So yes, it's selfish, but not the way the media makes it out to be."

The media. _Me_. Patrick's stomach twisted. Now that he knew how exposed it feels to have your life, even a fictitious one, out for the world to see, he couldn't imagine doing that to David. _I will only write the absolute truth,_ he vowed, _and make the world see the_ real _Prince of Roses._

"I think that's pretty self _less,_ " Patrick said.

"Well you'd be the only one," David laughed bitterly, taking another drink. Patrick took the bottle from him, taking a deep sip to catch up. His head was feeling warm, so he let the blanket fall from his shoulders. 

"Dad and I had a huge argument about it last year," David continued. "I was so mad that he couldn't see _me_ through all of the tradition and circumstance."

"Is that why you left?"

David stayed quiet for a minute. "Yeah," he said at last.

"If that law didn't exist," Patrick asked, hoping he wasn't being too forward, "would you be interested in ruling?"

"In a heartbeat." David turned to look at Patrick with sad eyes. "I love this country, these people. And I love my father. He was an excellent King, and I think I could be…" he took a deep breath. "I think I could make him proud."

Patrick reached for the bottle, but his hand landed on David's instead. Their surroundings were drowned out by his heart beat. 

A huge clap of thunder shook the cabin, making both of the men jump, clinging to each other.

Patrick looked up at David, whose strong arms were wrapped around his back, hot skin on skin. Their faces were inches apart, breathing the same air, eyes locked.

Patrick blinked, and suddenly his mouth was pressed against David's. _God,_ his lips were perfect, soft and supple and firm and amazing. He inhaled deeply and shifted his mouth, allowing David's probing tongue between his lips. He met it with his own, groaning as he licked up against David's perfect, white teeth.

One arm wrapped around David's strong back, the other he allowed to trail along his pecs, running fingers through the hair on his chest. David's arm was tight over Patrick's shoulder while he used his free hand to cup Patrick's jaw. He moved his fingers back, running through Patrick's short hair, giving a little tug.

Patrick moaned, and he felt David's lip curve into a smile. They shifted, Patrick sitting up on one knee while he moved his other leg to straddle David, climbing onto his lap. His hand on David's chest slid up, carding into his still-wet hair and grabbing hold. 

David pulled harder on Patrick's hair, pulling his head back, giving David access to his neck. He kissed and licked and bit from his jaw to the hollow of his throat, as Patrick rocked back and forth, hips grinding into David's lap.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he murmured into Patrick's skin, nails raking over his naked back. 

"You're one to talk," Patrick growled, this time pulling David's hair and pressing their mouths together in a filthy kiss. 

David's hands groped until they found Patrick's ass, squeezing and kneading and pulling him forward to rutt them together. Patrick could feel David's erection pressing up against him with every movement, and he was about to lose his mind.

"I need to touch you," Patrick said in a hoarse voice, thrusting himself down hard on David's lap.

"So touch me," David replied. He grabbed Patrick's waist and, using his own strong legs, lifted up and laid him down on one of the discarded blankets. He climbed over Patrick, hands bracing on either side, giving him space to touch. 

Patrick was frozen. David was hovering over him, and he could feel the electricity between them. He stared into the Prince's obsidian eyes, again unable to breathe as if a spell was cast over him. David moved his hips down and brushed his underwear-clad erection against Patrick's.

The delicious friction broke the spell. Patrick lifted up to meet David's mouth, one hand wandering down to grope against his bulge. David gasped as Patrick palmed his girth, thrusting his hips forward as Patrick's fingers began to half-stroke him through his briefs. 

Inspired by the groans David was producing, Patrick slid his fingers under the waistband of David's boxer briefs, letting them brush against the dark hair he'd dreamed about since the beach. 

" _Patrick,_ " David pleaded. 

Patrick grasped David's hard cock, gripping tight and giving a single tug.

"Is this what you want?" He asked the Prince hungrily. David only grunted in response, nudging his hips forward to stroke himself with Patrick's hand.

Patrick withdrew his hand (the whimper David made could have killed him). He deftly slid David's underwear under his ass, letting his dick free, before bringing his hand to his mouth and licking his palm, keeping solid eye contact. His now-slick hand grabbed at David's length again, stroking hard as the Prince started panting. 

David lowered himself on one elbow, most of his weight pressed into Patrick, freeing a hand to pull down at Patrick's boxers, releasing his throbbing cock. He sighed into David's mouth, biting at his lip to encourage more. 

They stroked each other, gasping and grunting, hard and harder until Patrick thought he might explode. 

" _David,_ " he groaned, as the Prince bit down on his shoulder. The piercing pain took him over the edge, and he let out a cry as he came hard between them. 

" _Fuck_ ," David muttered, Patrick's hand somehow moving despite all other muscles being complete useless. "Fuckfuckfuckfuck," the Prince panted in his ear as his strong body shuddered. He felt heat over his fist as David climaxed, making the most beautiful sounds against Patrick's neck.

David collapsed over him, Patrick moving him through the waves while they caught their breath.

"Would it be completely inappropriate," David asked, "to admit that I've wanted to do that since the first time I saw you?"

Patrick was glad his face was tucked in David's shoulder, because he knew he was sporting a giddy grin to go along with his flushed cheeks. He made a snarky quip instead of admitting anything more than he was ready to. 

"You've wanted to pin me against a cabin floor during a thunderstorm, ever since stealing my cab at the airport?"

David lifted up on an elbow. "You're a cheeky shit, aren't you?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Patrick smiled and slapped David's bare ass. "Let's check out that shower."

The bathroom was larger and more up-to-date than Patrick had expected. David walked over and turned on the shower before opening a cabinet full of bath products.

"Dad knew he'd need to be ready for anything if he expected me and Alexis to spend any time here," he explained. 

Patrick selected a couple bottles, which David promptly took from him and put back, choosing different products.

"You really should use a shampoo for curly hair," he instructed. Patrick brought hand to his head, curious how David had noticed the slight curl to his short-cropped hair. "And use conditioner, too," David continued. "And this scent should work for you."

"Well thank you, David," Patrick said smugly with an armful. He deposited them on the ledge of the shower while David handed him a washcloth and some towels.

"Okay, um," David looked around. "I'll leave you to it." He started to leave the room but Patrick grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. The Prince let out a small _oh_ as Patrick's arms wrapped around his waist. 

"Going somewhere?" He asked. He wasn't sure if it was the scotch or the company, but Patrick was feeling particularly confident, maybe even a little cocky.

"I just thought--" Patrick cut him off with a kiss.

"You thought wrong," he whispered, slipping his thumbs under David's waistband and removing his boxer briefs. David's eyebrows raised and he did the same to Patrick's. 

They clambered into the shower together, kicking garments off their ankles and stepping over the edge. 

David motioned for Patrick to turn into the spray, squeezing some soap into his palm. He ran soapy hands down Patrick's back, down below his hips.

"God, this _ass_ ," he moaned, cupping and groping.

"That nice, huh?" Patrick teased, and David swatted him. He turned around and faced the Prince, running fingers up and down his chest, feeling the hair matted with water. "Do you know how absolutely gorgeous you are?"

David didn't answer. Instead he brought his hand up to lift Patrick's chin, pressing a deep kiss into his lips. Patrick opened his lips to David's probing tongue, meeting it with his own as his fingers ran up and down David's biceps. David stepped a leg forward, pressing his thigh between Patrick's legs.

"As much as I love this," Patrick groaned between kisses along David's neck, "I don't think I'm performance ready again just yet."

"Aww, where's your sense of adventure?" David teased, flicking a nipple. 

"It died when I turned thirty," he laughed, biting at his earlobe.

"Well if you're not ready to do _this_ ," David lifted his knee to press into Patrick's interested cock, "then you probably shouldn't keep doing _that._ "

Patrick chuckled. "Fair enough. Pass the soap?"

They washed themselves, and Patrick quickly scrubbed some shampoo into his hair. 

"I don't want to even _think_ about the state of your follicles right now," David shuddered when he passed up the conditioner. Patrick just smirked and stepped out of the shower first, wrapping the plush towel around his waist. He looked down at the discarded briefs.

"I'm not sure I want to put these back on," he said tentatively. David stepped out behind him.

"That's disgusting," he agreed. " _Luckily,_ Dad always had extra clothes stashed here for any impromptu camping trips."

He led Patrick out and into the main room, crossing over to a large wooden wardrobe near a log-framed bed. He opened the door and searched through a drawer, pulling out two pairs of athletic pants and two t-shirts.

"So we were sitting by the fire, in our _underwear,_ when you had actual clothes hidden nearby?" Patrick gave him a suspicious look to go with his not-serious tone.

David shrugged, not looking him in the eye. "I forgot," he said simply. 

Patrick dropped his towel and pulled on the pants. They were a little long, pooling around his ankles, but the shirt fit perfectly, and they were both so soft. 

"I think these are the most comfortable clothes I've ever worn," he said.

David laughed as he pulled on a shirt. "I'd hope so, they're Neil Barrett."

"I don't know what that means," Patrick said with a smirk, no-so-secretly watching the fabric stretch over David's wide, strong shoulders. 

"You're staring," David said.

"I am," he agreed, walking over to kiss his neck. He felt David's hands work their way up his back.

"For someone who said they weren't ready for round two, you sure are pushing all the right buttons."

"What can I say?" Patrick replied. "My eyes are bigger than my stomach." As if on cue, his stomach grumbled loudly between them. "Yeah, I worked up quite the appetite," he said as he sucked air between his teeth.

David smirked. "Oh, did you now?"

"Running does that," Patrick nodded, releasing him and stepping towards the kitchen.

"I see," David pursed his lips. "And it had nothing to do with _those_ other activities."

Patrick just turned back and winked at him. "So there wasn't _any_ food in here?" He headed towards a cabinet, pulling it open.

It was full of non-perishables.

"David, there is _so_ much food in here!"

"Okay, but none that was, like, _ready_ to eat!"

Patrick pulled out a box of pasta and looked for the expiration date. "All of these are still good."

"That's probably Ronnie," David explained. "She always kept it stocked and ready for Dad. Wouldn't surprise me if she kept it up in case I came home."

"Huh." Obviously the Ronnie David grew up with and the Ms. Lee that Patrick had met were vastly different. "So I'm going to assume by your statement of 'there's no food' that you can't cook?"

"Um, no," David picked an invisible piece of lint from his shirt. "Dad usually did that when he'd bring us here."

Patrick wasn't sure what was more surprising, a 30-something who couldn't cook noodles, or a King who made his own dinner.

"You guys come out here a lot?" 

"When we were kids, practically every time we were home from school," David responded fondly. "Later on, Alexis always had something better to do, but Dad made a point of dragging me out here on a semi-regular basis."

"That sounds really great, David." Patrick smiled at him.

"It was." David returned the smile, sadly.

Patrick let the moment sit before turning to rifling through the cupboard. "Okay, well, it looks like I can make spaghetti, oatmeal or canned beef stew."

"Um, spaghetti, please," the Prince said quietly.

Patrick began looking for a pot and filling it with water while David moved around the room. Their socks were dry, so he laid their pants out next to the fire and found other places besides the table to put their shirts and his sweater. 

While waiting for the pot to boil, Patrick turned around and found David leaning over an open roll-top desk. He approached the Prince, whose shoulders and arms looked tense. In front of David was a flat white box, like a thin shirt box. It was held together with a black ribbon tied in the center. 

"It's a gift from my father," David muttered without looking up. 

He didn't need to go on, Patrick knew the implication-- the King had meant to give this to his son for his birthday last year, but died before getting the chance. Because they'd had a fight, and they weren't speaking.

"This was on top," David continued, handing him a card. Hand-written in neat lettering was a poem.

> The duty of a King is love:
> 
> Love of country,
> 
> Love of people,
> 
> Love of marriage;
> 
> But most of all
> 
> Love.

"Are you going to open it?" Patrick asked. 

David turned away abruptly, wiping his eyes. "No," he said in a tone that was not to be questioned. Patrick nodded and placed the card back onto the gift.

They remained quiet as Patrick finished cooking, David sitting in a chair and watching the fire. When the spaghetti was finished and plated, they migrated to the table and started to eat in silence, sharing sips of the scotch.

"Thank you for cooking," David said at last.

"My pleasure," Patrick said with an honest smile. 

"No one's, uh," he cleared his throat. "No one's ever cooked for me before."

"David, you're _literally_ a prince living in a castle," Patrick laughed.

"Okay, okay, you know what I mean," David glared playfully. "No one's gone out of their way to cook something just for me. You know, besides my dad."

"Well I'm honored to be your first," Patrick replied, watching David's eyebrows raised in amusement. "And that is something I just said."

The mood lightened as they finished dinner, and Patrick insisted David help with the dishes.

"How about instead of _that_ ," David countered, " _you_ could wash the dishes and I can be your moral support."

"Aw, you'd do that for me?"

"Okay I know you're mocking me, but torturing my cuticles with harsh dish soap without adequate moisturizer is _not_ a risk I'm willing to take."

Patrick slowly approached David, placing hands on his shoulders. "I saw lotion in the bathroom," he said softly, leaning in for a kiss. "I believe in you, Your Majesty."

David narrowed his eyes. "You think you're so cute," he snipped.

"Yeah," Patrick smiled. " _You_ think I'm so cute, too." 

"Yeah, I do." David pressed his lips to Patrick's, holding his hips and pulling them close together.

Despite his best interest, he pulled back. "You're not getting out of dishes that easily, David."

"Worth a shot."

Patrick allowed David to keep his hands out of the water by drying the plates and pots before putting them away. As he finished, Patrick came up behind him, wrapping arms around his waist. David relaxed, leaning back to press his strong back against Patrick's chest. 

Patrick let his hands wander, slipping under his tee shirt and dragging fingernails across his skin. He passed over a nipple, giving it a quick pinch.

"If that is in invitation," David said in a low voice, "I accept."

Patrick pressed a kiss into his neck as David turned around in his arms and brought their lips together. He grabbed Patrick's hips and pulled him close, crowding himself against the counter as Patrick leaned forward to press against David's solid frame. Patrick could feel David's growing interest beneath the thin fabric of their pants, and he knew David could feel his. He rocked his hips forward, eliciting a delicious moan from the Prince.

Patrick's hands, still against his skin, lifted up to remove David's shirt before taking off his own. They pressed back together, skin on skin, hungry hands roaming each other's bodies. David grabbed Patrick's ass, pulling him tight against him, as Patrick thrusted against him. 

"Bed," David groaned in a gravelly voice. "I need you on the bed."

They slowly made their way across the cabin, maneuvering around furniture, until Patrick finally felt the mattress against the back of his knees. He lowered himself to sit, David following, laying them both down on the worn quilt. 

David's hand moved down, brushing along Patrick's side until he found the waistband of his pants, sliding underneath. He shifted himself up to give more room to remove Patrick's pants, peeling them down and leaving him on display, naked and erect.

David bit his lip. "Fuck," he whispered, his voice almost killing Patrick on the spot.

The Prince leaned forward, pressing a kiss into the hollow of Patrick's throat, following a line down over his sternum, navel, and to the base of his cock. He paused there, running fingers up and down his thighs, as Patrick writhed in anticipation.

" _David_ ," he choked out. The Prince smirked, then bent down and ran his tongue from base to tip, flicking back and forth over the head.

Patrick moaned and rutted forward as he felt a strong hand grope at his balls, rolling and tugging. A hot mouth enveloped his dick, sucking lightly and taking him in deep. David's tongue worked the bottom of his shaft while his hands worked his balls, all while Patrick thrusted gently in rhythm. David took him in deeper, all the way to the root, bobbing down until Patrick could feel himself pressing into the back of his throat. 

The heat from David's mouth flowed up Patrick's stomach, sending a new zing of pleasure with every twist of the hand or flick of the tongue. He felt himself start to tense up, thighs shaking and abs twitching.

"I'm--" he panted. "I'm gonna cum."

David pulled off, quickly replacing his mouth with an expert hand. "Cum for me," he purred. "Cum in my mouth." He pressed back down, moving faster up and down over the shaft.

Patrick let go. He came with a groan, David's perfect lips enveloping him, coaxing him through his orgasm. Patrick's body relaxed, boneless and breathless, and David climbed up to join him.

"Hey," Patrick whispered, grabbing the back of the Prince's neck and pulling him in for a deep kiss, tongue probing for his own taste. " _Fuck,_ David," he sighed when they parted.

"Yeah," the Prince agreed. 

Patrick propped himself up on his elbows and looked down, frowning. "Why are you still wearing pants?" He asked. David immediately ripped them off, with such force that his hard cock bounced against his stomach. Patrick climbed down the bed to bring himself face-to-face with the Prince's royal member. 

He'd seen it while they were showering, and shortly after. He'd felt it, against his leg and in his hand. He'd thought about it, at the beach and in front of fire, and every moment since then. 

But to see it like this was magnificent. David's erection stood tall, long and elegant and sprouting forth from a well-maintained nest of dark hair. The olive skin looked like velvet, protruding veins throbbing with every heartbeat, dark head glistening with precum. He was beautiful.

"You can stare at it all you'd like," David said from above. "But one of us is going to have to have to start touching it."

Patrick breathed out a laugh and delicately wrapped his fingers around David's length. It was firm and hot in his hand, and he felt a twitch when he gave a light squeeze. Using the pad of his thumb, he spread the drop over the head of David's cock, slow and tantalizing. 

David thrusted up into his hand. Patrick smirked at the Prince's impatience and began to move his fist, stroking gently while pressed kisses into his hip, across his leg. Finally his lips grazed across the silky skin, and he tasted like salt and sweat and sex. He opened his mouth to take him in, feeling the weight on his tongue and the press in his throat. 

David moaned as Patrick lightly raked teeth over his dick, teasing him with his tongue. His hand worked the base of his cock, pulling and twisting, setting a rhythm while he sucked on the head.

He felt deft fingers run through his hair, tugging gently in time with Patrick's movement.

" _God_ , you have a beautiful fucking mouth," David groaned. "You look so fucking _good_ with my cock in your mouth… Mmm… I'm gonna cum in that gorgeous mouth of yours."

Patrick moaned in anticipation, feeling his mouth vibrate around David's length. He moved his fist faster, languish licks turning into desperate workings of his tongue. Beneath him, David's muscles began to twitch, his breath becoming ragged as he edged closer.

"Fuuuuuuu--" the Prince called out, and Patrick felt him release into the back of his throat. 

Patrick worked him through his orgasm before moving off of him, relishing the taste on his tongue. David pawed at his shoulder, urging him to get closer, and when he did, David wrapped his arms around him.

"This is really nice," Patrick said after a few minutes of laying in the Prince's arms. "But if we fall asleep naked on top of the blanket, we're going to freeze."

David huffed out a laugh and nodded, releasing Patrick. They climbed off the bed in search of their pants, and Patrick brushed his teeth while David replaced their jeans with their shirts in front of the withering fire. They traded positions, David occupying the bathroom and doing a "tragically reduced version" of his evening skincare routine, because "this cabin is basically like The Grapes of Wrath." While he busied himself, Patrick turned off the lights and climbed into the bed.

"I have a confession," David admitted as he climbed in next to Patrick. "I didn't forget about the extra clothes. You just looked _really_ good at the beach, and I wanted to see you in your boxers again." 

Patrick chucked and planted a kiss on David's cheek before tucking himself in to his side, head in his shoulder and hand on his chest. "I forgive you," he teased.

"I never said I was sorry."

The pattering of rain on the cabin roof was lulling them, and just before he slipped into sleep, Patrick heard David murmur in his ear.

"Thank you for treating me like a normal person," he said softly. "For letting me just be me."

**🌹**


	8. Chapter 8

David's ringtone woke them.

"Who the fuck?!" David grumbled, unwrapping himself from around Patrick and rolling over. "Hey, Ronnie," he said as he answered the phone. "Mmm yeah, okay." He set the phone down and turned back to Patrick, snuggling back in.

"What did Ronnie want?" He mumbled, despite really not wanting to know. 

"She's headed out to get us," David said into Patrick's neck. "Be here in 20."

Patrick sat straight up in bed, moving toward the edge. "We need to get up."

David whined, grabbing at his arm and pulling him back into the warmth. "Five more minutes?"

"I really don't think Ronnie wants to find the Prince in bed with the Princess' tutor," Patrick told him. David frowned.

"Can't we stay in our bubble for five more minutes, though?" 

Patrick sighed and set an alarm on his phone. "Five more minutes," he conceded, climbing into David's arms. He didn't want this bubble to burst, either, to go back to castle life. Not after last night.

But when the alarm rang, Patrick was the first one up. His clothes from last night were dry, but stiff and muddy, and he had no interest in putting them back on.

"I'm just wearing these back," David told him as he pulled the discarded tee over his head. He wandered into the bathroom while Patrick made the bed (it's only polite). "By the way," David called as he stuck out his head, toothbrush in his mouth, "we're throwing these away." He used his foot to push out the small pile of their underwear. Patrick laughed and gingerly gathered the boxers and carried them to the trash.

He traded places in the bathroom with David to brush his own teeth, and the Prince kissed his cheek as they passed. When he was done, David was holding out a messenger bag for him to pack his dirty clothes. As they collected their things around the cabin, pausing frequently for kisses, he passed by the King's desk and the box caught his eye. David had not wanted to open it last night, but maybe someday he would change his mind. Patrick secretly tucked it into his bag to give to him later. 

"Make yourself decent!" Came a voice before the front door opened. Ms. Lee came walking in, glanced around the cabin as if she were looking for signs of wrongdoings. She looked Patrick up and down suspiciously. "Did you behave yourself?"

Patrick flushed, but David answered first. "We were on our best behavior, Ronnie."

"With _you_ , I doubt that," she deadpanned.

"Just take us back so I can _actually_ do my hair," he whined. 

She tossed David a key, and when he raised an eyebrow, she explained. "Groundskeeper is coming with some piece of machinery to pull your cart out of the mud."

"Jake? I'll _bet_ he wants to use his machine on my cart," David muttered. 

"Just go!" Ronnie snapped.

The ride back to the palace was quiet and quick. They ascended the stone steps in silence, pausing inside the atrium.

"I've got a bunch of stuff I gotta do, for the party," David said quietly. "I'll see you later?"

"Yeah," Patrick replied. David squeezed his elbow and walked off down a hall, leaving Patrick alone and sadder than he felt he ought. 

**🌹**

Not for the first time, Patrick wanted nothing more than to spend his day with Prince David. Every other day since coming to Rosania, he had other obligations to occupy him (primarily pretending to tutor Alexis). But today, the last full day before the ball, the Princess was busy with last-minute dress fittings, welcoming visiting guests, and sneaking away for more 'lessons' at the stables. The thought of having a completely free day excited him at first, hoping he could find his way to David, but all hopes were dashed when he realized that the Prince was just as busy, if not more so, than his sister. 

Patrick tried to spend some time on his article, but the words wouldn't come. How could he make David's honest, selfless truth into the type of human interest piece that Wendy was looking for? There was nothing raunchy or scandalous about it. Nothing raunchy or scandalous about David. 

He needed a break.

It was getting close to noon, and despite knowing he was likely busy, Patrick went to see if he could find the Prince. Maybe he would be available for a quick lunch? Patrick was almost embarrassed at how anxious he was to see him again.

He wasn't sure what David's plans for today consisted of, so he just wandered around the wing of the palace where his quarters were. If he didn't find him, that was okay. Just worth a shot. At least, that's what Patrick told himself.

He passed the parlor where David had played the piano the other day, and finding it empty he continued down the corridor. Patrick could hear a male voice speaking from an office farther down, and despite not recognizing the speaker, he found himself following the sound. 

"I know you better than anyone," the man's voice said. "I really do care."

"I seriously doubt that," David growled. Patrick stepped closer, wishing he wasn't making such a habit of eavesdropping on the Prince's private conversations. The door to the office was open, and Patrick could see David leaning against a desk. A tall, handsome man stood in front of him. Lord Sebastian.

"Then let me show you," Sebastian said. He stepped closer, putting a hand on David's cheek and leaning in for a kiss. An icy hand gripped Patrick's chest as he watched their lips press together. 

He felt nauseous, he couldn't watch any more. Turning abruptly on his heel, Patrick quickly made his way across the castle and to his room. 

As soon as he was safe behind his closed door, he exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut. _Stop it stop it stop it_. 

Just because they'd spent one night (albeit a wonderful night) together, didn't mean anything. They weren't exclusive. They weren't even a thing. And yes, Sebastian was a tool and David's ex, but he was also attractive, and obviously there was still something there. So what if they were kissing? Prince David was a grown man, he could kiss whomever he wanted. It shouldn't matter to Patrick. It shouldn't. 

But it did.

He groaned and threw himself onto the bed. His body wanted to go for a run, but he knew he'd be half-wishing David to show up in a golf cart and sweep him off to the cabin again. _Get it together, Brewer_.

Mutt and Twyla couldn't be much help, either. He hadn't told them anything yet, and now wasn't sure he would at all.

He groaned again and forced himself to write. 

🌹

Patrick sat on his bed after dinner, proofreading the little bit of the article that he had written. He was having a hard time focusing despite having spent the rest of his day in his room, staring at his laptop. 

There was a knock on the door. It was probably Alexis. He got up and opened the door and was surprised to see David standing before him.

"Hi." It came out as a whisper. He cleared his throat. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"I was thinking you might want to go for a walk?" David asked. "It's a beautiful night."

 _A beautiful night to be dumped by a beautiful man,_ Patrick thought. "I don't know."

"Please?" The Prince looked pained; something was on his mind. "Just 20 minutes. I could use the company."

Patrick nodded. Who was he to deny David? "Okay, sure."

They walked in silence down the corridor and outside, down the stone steps and onto the path that lead to the hedge maze.

"Hiding me?" Patrick tried to joke, but it came out as tense as he felt.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said quietly. "It's stupid."

"Please talk to me," David said, stopping at an intersection of two paths. "I feel like I've told you everything about myself."

He wasn't wrong, and Patrick felt guilty. He wanted to share everything with David, and he promised himself that he would, just not yet. He couldn't blow his cover now, the day before the ball, and ruin everything. But he hated himself for these lies, and lies by omission. Instead, he changed the subject. "What would Lord Sebastian say if he saw us together?"

David scoffed. "Why would that matter?"

"I, uh, saw you together. Earlier." He continued walking down the maze.

David reached out and grabbed his arm. "Patrick," he said. "Whatever you think you saw, there is nothing between Sebastian and me."

He wanted to believe. "It didn't look that way to me."

"He was just trying to rekindle something that isn't there anymore," David explained. "And my suspicion is that his interest is in the crown more than me."

"So you two aren't..." Patrick couldn't even finish his sentence. 

"No," the Prince interjected. "I don't want any of that." He waved a hand at the general direction of the palace.

"What do you want?" Patrick asked bravely, taking a careful step forward.

David smirked. "What do you think I want?" he asked, grabbing the front of Patrick's shirt and pulling him in for a kiss. 

All the stress Patrick had been holding since this morning melted away in the heat of David's mouth. He reciprocated, circling his arms around the taller man and letting his tongue tease along the seam of his lips. David's arms moved, one hand still pressed against Patrick's chest while the other wrapped around his shoulders to hold him close. David's mouth opened to Patrick, letting his tongue move in against his lips, teeth. 

David pulled him closer, bodies flush together, as his hand teased at the collar of Patrick's button-up. Patrick stepped his leg closer, between David's knees, letting his thigh press in with solid pressure. He felt David roll his hips forward, rutting into him with a moan.

"Fuck," David sighed as he pulled back. "I didn't bring you out here to accost you in the garden."

"I really don't mind," Patrick teased, leaning back in to bite at his lip. David groaned and kissed him back, fingers gripping the front of Patrick's shirt while the other hand ran through his hair.

The Prince pulled back again, putting both hands between them. "Okay, if we don't stop now I'm going to end up blowing you in a hedge maze, and--" Patrick flashed him a grin. "--I refuse to do that!"

Patrick laughed and let head fall onto David's shoulder. "Okay, David." 

They turned to walk deeper into the maze, David reaching over to interlace his fingers with Patrick's. They walked along quietly, David leading the way through the forks and turns until they made it to a clearing.

"Is this where…" Patrick started.

"You showed me up with your insane archery skills?" David laughed. "Yeah."

"I'm surprised I was able to hit the target at all, considering how distracting your arms were." He ran his hands up David's biceps for emphasis.

"Oh, was I distracting?" The Prince teased, and Patrick stepped forward to shut him up with a kiss. David gasped into his mouth, bringing his hands up to brace Patrick's face. 

"I really didn't bring you out here to seduce you," David admits when they parted.

"Then why did you bring me out here?" Patrick flirtatiously asked.

"To talk," he replied. "To spend some time with someone who just let me be me. Who didn't want something from me, or have some ulterior motive."

Patrick swallowed, suddenly full of guilt. Wasn't that exactly who he was? He couldn't do this anymore, it wasn't fair.

"David, there's something I--" 

David cut him off with a kiss, deep and full of emotion. Patrick fell into him, wrapping himself around David's strong body and letting himself be absorbed in the moment.

By the time they parted, he'd lost his nerve, and Patrick spent the rest of the walk silently hating himself.

"Are you going to be there tomorrow night?" David asked when they made it back to the palace.

"Even if I said no, I think Alexis would drag me to the ballroom," Patrick joked.

"Good," the Prince replied. "It'll be a little more bearable with you there." He leaned down and kissed Patrick once more, chaste and sweet. "Goodnight, Patrick."

"Goodnight, David."

It came out barely above a whisper.

🌹

Patrick stayed up late, writing and re-writing the article. After coming back to his room, he was dead-set on writing only the absolute truth, painting David in the light that Patrick saw him in. 

He woke up much later than normal, and it was almost 10 o'clock when he finally crawled out of bed. Alexis and David would be busy with preparations for tonight, he knew, so he resigned himself to another day alone. He sent his article draft to Twyla and Mutt for their input before going out for a run, hoping to get rid of any pre-party jitters. When he returned he took a long shower, enjoying the perfect water pressure and expensive shower products. 

It was a beautiful day, so he wandered the grounds at a leisurely pace, enjoying the sun on his skin. His thoughts returned to David constantly, and he wished he were with him now. Maybe tomorrow, after all the pomp and circumstance, they could be together, just enjoying each other. 

He'd successfully waited most of the day, and it was time for Patrick to head back to his room to get changed. When he walked in, he found something laying on his bed-- a black garment bag, a shoe box and a note.

> _Button,_
> 
> _Wear this tonight, you will look perfect._
> 
> _xoxo_
> 
> _Alexis_

Smiling, Patrick unzipped the bag to reveal a beautiful burgundy brocade [suit](https://classyby.com/fr/products/lastast-coat-blazer-burgundy-print-pattern-wedding-prom-tuxedos-2-pieces-mens-formal-evening-dress-2020-cb20197) jacket and matching trousers. There was also a crisp white shirt, with a black tie draped over the hanger. He opened the box to see a pair of shiny black leather shoes and matching socks. 

Alexis had gone all out. When she'd texted Patrick last night to say she'd have something for him to wear, he hadn't expected _this_. The jacket moved like satin between his fingers and it felt expensive-- he was sure it was, despite not recognizing the name on the tag. 

What surprised him the most was how perfectly the suit fit him. He'd never been fitted or measured, but somehow Alexis had chosen the exact size and cut. 

He tied the tie and pulled on the jacket, turning to look in the mirror. _Wow._ This was the best he'd probably ever looked. He knew he was just the effect of the multi-hundred dollar (at least) suit, but still. He took out his phone to snap a picture, knowing his mom would insist on seeing this.

Slipping his feet into the patent-leather shoes, he made his way down to the ballroom. 

When he arrived at the beautifully decorated room, it was already half-full of non-royals. Stevie rushed up to him with a glass of champagne, wearing a short, tight black dress.

"Damn, Professor," she said with a knowing smile. "You look good."

"Right back atcha," he winked. "Great dress."

She looked down over herself. "Yeah, I use it to catch randoms."

Patrick grabbed himself a glass of champagne and looked out over the well-dressed crowd. A pair of guards stood at the entryway at the front of the hall, introducing lesser royals as they arrived; Lady Klair of Albany, Viscount Roland and Viscountess Jocelyn of Schitt's Creek, Lord Sebastian (who holds no lands).

Soon a hush came over the room, and everyone's attention turned to a set of double doors along the side of the room, lined with guards.

"Honored Guests," one called out. "I present to you Alexis Claire Anne Francis Rose, Princess of Rosania."

The doors opened and Alexis stepped through as everyone in the room bowed. She looked magnificent, in a floor-length gold embellished [gown](https://i.ibb.co/YPKFzGF/Screenshot-20210309-090737-Chrome.jpg), a dainty gold-and-diamond tiara resting in her hair. 

After giving a polite curtsey to greet the crowd, she rushed over to Patrick.

"Button!" She shouted. "You look incredible!"

"You're one to talk," he said with a bow, kissing her hand. She waved away his compliment, twisting her hips to make the lace at the bottom of her skirt twirl. 

"Stevie, drop-dead gorgeous as usual." The petite woman tried to hide her blush with her champagne glass. "I have to greet some officials, but save me a dance!" With a kiss on the cheek, Alexis was off again. 

Shortly after, the guard called attention again to the door. "Honored Guests, I present to you Moira Catherine Anne Welch Rose, Queen of Rosania." 

Everyone in the room went down to their knees, Stevie pulling Patrick's arm to follow. The Queen stepped in, wearing a champagne-colored caped [gown](https://i.ibb.co/hKcb4rm/20210309-091159.jpg) adorned with sequins and feathers, a tall golden crown encircling her head like a halo. She raised her hands to motion the room to stand. 

"My dear subjects," the Queen began. "Thank you all for being here this evening. May I present to you the man of the hour, my eldest child and only son, David Joseph Daniel Eugene Rose, Prince of Rosania!"

Patrick only bowed a fraction of an inch, not wanting to miss David's entrance. He walked into the ballroom and stood beside his mother. He was beautiful. 

In a perfectly tailored [suit](https://static1.colliderimages.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/saturday-night-live-dan-levy-feature-social.jpg?q=50&fit=contain&w=480&h=240&dpr=1.5), black with pinstripes that sparkled in the light, he was a vision. He smiled politely at the crowd, until his eyes met Patrick's, and a grin broke out over his gorgeous face. 

After greeting and shaking hands with a few guests, David beelined to Patrick.

"Hi," the Prince sighed, pressing a kiss into his cheek.

"Hi," Patrick replied. "You look… wow." David smiled shyly.

"Okay," Stevie interjected, downing her glass. "I'm going to need some more alcohol to handle you two tonight." David shoved her shoulder as she sashayed towards the bar. 

After a few minutes, and Stevie's return with drinks for all three of them, David excused himself to find his mother. The guests were guided off of the dance floor as the string quartet on the platform began to play. The Prince took his mother's hand and led her in a ballroom dance.

Patrick was mesmerized. He'd seen David move before, even _felt_ him move, but had never seen him as elegant and graceful as he was now, spinning around the dance floor.

The song ended, and David bowed to his mother before moving to Alexis, and taking her hand for another dance. The two of them moved just as delicately, but not as stiff as it had been with the Queen. The siblings were at ease with each other. 

Halfway through their dance, others began to join them. First was Viscount Roland and Jocelyn, then more and more couples until the ballroom was full of dancers.

"Shall we?" Patrick asked, offering Stevie his hand. 

She raised an eyebrow. "You can foxtrot?"

"Absolutely not," he grinned. "But I can try not to step on your toes."

Stevie laughed and took his hand, letting him lead her onto the dance floor. They danced for a bit, mostly swaying back and forth with his hand on her back, the other holding hers in the air.

"This is the fanciest I've ever danced," he mused as they found their rhythm.

"Yeah, I'm used to bumping and grinding," Stevie smirked. 

When the song ended, they separated and stepped aside as Alexis and David made their way over to them. 

David extended a hand to Stevie. "M'lady," he deadpanned.

"Call me that again and I'll puke on your shoes," she growled, taking his hand anyway.

Patrick offered his hand to Alexis, who squealed and grabbed on. "I have to admit I have no idea what I'm doing," Patrick said as they drew together.

"That's fine," she said with a smile. "I mostly just don't want to dance with Sebastian."

"I can work with that." He pulled a hand around her waist and dipped her low. 

She giggled as he pulled her up. "You've got some _moves_ , Button!" 

They laughed and chatted the whole dance, and he found himself even less nervous than he was with Stevie, and that was as low-stakes as it gets. But soon the quartet went quiet, and all dance partners stepped apart.

"Can I cut in?" David asked, appearing at their side. 

"Of course," Patrick said, stepping back so he could move closer to his sister. To his surprise, David was holding his hand out towards Patrick. "Oh!"

"May I have this dance?"

Patrick nodded and took David's strong hand. David pulled him close, keeping their hands together while placing his other hand on Patrick's side. Patrick placed his free hand on David's shoulder, and let the Prince lead him through a basic step.

"I'm really glad you're here," David said quietly.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," Patrick told him honestly. 

David pulled him closer, holding their hands to his chest and bringing their bodies together. Patrick's hand moved to David's back as he felt a strong arm wrap around his waist. He rested his cheek against David's chest. This was Heaven, and he wished it would never end. 

He felt David's arm tighten around him and turned his face to look up.

"I'm going to have to make the announcement soon," the Prince said quietly. Patrick squeezed his hand. "I'll have to talk to a few people afterwards, but I'm not going to want to stick around here after everything." David looked down, his dark eyes hiding his uncertainty and fear. "Will you leave the party with me?"

"Yes," Patrick whispered. 

He smiled sadly. "Then it's time to let down an entire kingdom."

"David…" Patrick's heart was breaking for him.

David leaned down and pressed a quick, chaste kiss onto his lips. "I'll come find you after," he promised, and disappeared into the crowd. 

A few minutes later, David took the stage. The Queen and Princess stood on either side of him, beaming with pride. Patrick made his way to the front of the group, finding himself next to Stevie.

"People of Rosania," David's voice flowed beautifully across the room. "Thank you all for coming out to celebrate with us. As you know, tomorrow marks one year since my father's death. And according to law, it is also the final day of the interregnum period. I am sure that tonight, you came expecting an announcement about the leadership or our great country." David took a deep breath and looked down at Patrick. "I will _not_ be following in my father's footsteps. I am abdicating the throne."

The crowd broke out in gasps and murmurs as Stevie grabbed Patrick's hand. The Queen reached out to her son, squeezing his arm and speaking through clenched teeth. He brushed her off and spoke again to the people.

"According to inheritance laws and procedures of Rosania, your new King will be crowned tomorrow at the coronation ceremony."

Roland, standing at the side of the stage, whooped loudly. "That would be us, Joce!" He shouted. Queen Moira cried out in pain. 

"Actually!" Came a voice from the back of the room, and the crowd parted to allow someone to pass through. Lord Sebastian and Lady Klair strode forward with arrogance. 

"According to hierarchy, the Lady of Albany gets the crown before any _Viscount,_ " Lord Sebastian sneered.

"And after our private wedding ceremony this afternoon, we are the next legal heirs to the throne!" Lady Klair cheered. 

The room was silent. Alexis' eyes were wide with confusion, and the Queen looked relieved. "Thank _God!_ " She sighed.

"What the hell?!" David demanded, anger flashing in his eyes.

"David, don't be upset," Sebastian cooed. "You had your chance. But you were too taken with your sister's little tutor!" He turned to shoot Patrick a condescending pout. David glanced at him with an apologetic look.

"Except that he's not a tutor!" Klair giggled. Alexis' face went white, and Patrick could feel his stomach knot. "He's a reporter!"

David looked at Patrick with a furrowed brow. He opened his mouth to speak but Sebastian interrupted.

"Patrick Brewer from Toronto Now! Came all the way here to get the inside scoop from the Playboy Prince."

David's eyes never left Patrick's, but we're now clouded with anger and hurt.

"Ronnie!" He growled, and stormed off the stage. Patrick took a step towards him, but suddenly Ms. Lee was at his side, gripping his elbow. 

"Come with me," she said sternly, and didn't want for a response before guiding him out a side door. 

She brought him to a parlor where David was pacing back and forth across the room. The Queen was sprawled out across a chaise and Alexis was perched on a chair, wringing her hands. 

"Your Majesty," Ms. Lee said. David immediately turned to face them.

"Is it true?" 

"It's not what it--" Patrick started.

"Is. It. True?" He repeated through clenched teeth.

Patrick sighed, heavy with shame and guilt. "Yes," he admitted. "But you have to know that I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

David drew in a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. "I trusted you. I confided in you. I _believed_ you. And you were lying to me all along." He opened his eyes to look at Patrick, full of disgust. 

"I didn't come here to…" he could feel his voice cracking, throat getting thick. "Things just got so out of hand."

"Well you have a hell of a story to tell now," David spat. "You should go."

"David, I--"

"You will address me as Your Majesty, or not at all!" The Prince snapped, eyes wide and full of rage. "Get. Out."

Patrick nodded, Ronnie pulling at his arm, and walked out of the room.

"You really fucked up," she told him as she led him back to his room. "You have ten minutes to pack."

Patrick stepped inside the room and let the door shut behind him. Tears filling his eyes, he gave himself to the count of ten to feel sorry for himself before wiping his cheeks and moving on. Ronnie was right, he'd fucked up. Now all he could do was get out of the way and figure out how to fix this.

He started stuffing clothes into his suitcase, not caring enough to fold them. He grabbed the discarded bag from the foot of the bed, where his running clothes from the other night were still packed. As he pulled them out, he found something he'd completely forgotten about.

The thin white box was still as pristine as it was on the cabin. Patrick ran his fingers over the black ribbon. He needed to give it to David. No, David needed to have it, but not from him. Maybe Ronnie would deliver it.

He dropped the box onto the bed and continued moving around the room, gathering his things. He took off the suit, pulling on his jeans and a sweater, tossing the jacket on the bed. It hit the gift box, sending it tumbling to the floor. With a swear, Patrick walked around the side of the bed and found the box open, papers littering the floor. He crouched down to gather them together when the royal insignia caught his eye.

**By the King,**

**A Royal Proclamation**

Whereas We have taken into Our Royal Consideration the obligations and responsibilities of Our valuable heirs to the Throne, hereby declare this, a change to the law of inheritance of the Crown. 

Patrick skimmed the document, unable to tear his eyes away. This… this changes everything. A new law, signed into effect by the late King John, declaring that any heir no longer needed to be married to inherit the throne. This is the gift he was giving to his son, just as the poem had said, that _love_ was what made a King, not marriage. 

"Ms. Lee!" He leapt from the floor and flew to the door. "Ms. Lee, you have to get this to the Prince!"

"I don't have to do anything but get your ass out of here," she said, unimpressed. She glanced at the box in his hands. "Why do you have that?"

"David didn't want to open it, I thought he might change his mind someday." Patrick shook his head, knowing this wasn't important. "Look what was inside." He shoved the papers into her hands. 

Ronnie cocked an eyebrow and looked down, reading the documents. "This…" she looked up. "You're still not off the hook. Stay here, someone will escort you out." She took off hurriedly down the hall. 

Patrick wished he could be there when David saw the papers, but he knew he couldn't. Feeling heavy, he finished packing and sat on the edge of the bed until someone knocked on the door. Ivan, the guard, stood in the hall and silently walked Patrick out of the palace and into a world of his own mistakes.

**🌹**


	9. Chapter 9

Patrick was lying in bed when his alarm went off at 6:45. He hadn't slept all night, just layed on the cheap motel bed, wallowing in self pity. 

Ivan had been kind enough to call a cab to pick him up from the palace, taking him to the only place he knew-- the Rosebud Motel. It was too late in the evening to get a flight out, so he booked a room and planned to head back to the airport in the morning. 

He changed into fresh clothes and brushed his teeth, standing at the front desk at 7am when Stevie stepped out from the back room. _Shit_. She wasn't there when he checked in last night, or even a week ago, so he'd forgotten that she literally owned the place. 

"Checking out?" She asked, voice full of venom.

"Yeah," he acquiesced, setting the key on the counter. "Stevie--"

"Stop," she said harshly, typing on the ancient computer. "I don't care. $45."

He slid his card across the counter, signed the receipt and put his wallet back in his pocket. He turned to walk back out and paused.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "For everything."

Stevie didn't reply, and he left the motel office.

He was able to change his flight easily enough, and only had an hour to waste in the terminal before boarding the tiny plane. He made it back to Toronto, taking a cab to his apartment and collapsed on his bed.

He rolled over a few hours later, not having intended on sleeping, and checked his phone. He hadn't talked to anyone since before the ball yesterday, so he only had one text-- from Alexis. He didn't read it.

It was almost 3pm AST, time for the coronation ceremony, but he couldn't bring himself to watch it. He'd find out what happened eventually. 

Instead, he opened his laptop, brought up a new document and started typing. An hour later, more productive than he'd been in a week, he sent out an email.

> To: kurtzwe@torontonow.ca
> 
> From: brewerp@torontonow.ca
> 
> Subject: My last article 
> 
> 📎 pbrewer2wknotice.docx
> 
> 📎 PrinceofRoses.docx
> 
> _____________________________
> 
> Wendy,
> 
> Here is the article I wrote for the Rosania coronation. I know this wasn't what you're expecting, but it's what I've got for you.
> 
> Also attached is my 2 week notice. I'm taking PTO for tomorrow, but I'll be in Tuesday. 
> 
> Thank you, and sorry.
> 
> Patrick 

  
  


He went back to sleep.

🌹

Patrick woke up late Monday morning, feeling well rested and good. Then he remembered.

He sighed, putting on the kettle and taking a shower while his water boiled for tea. He settled into an easy chair with his tea, and finally looked at his phone. 

> **[Alexis]**
> 
> I'm so sorry, Button. I'm working on damage control. I'll do what I can, I don't want this to be over! 😔❤💋

> **[Wendy]**
> 
> Not happy about it, but you did good, kid. Let me know if I can do anything for you.

> **[Mutt (work)]**
> 
> Hey man, what the hell happened since Friday? Call me

> **[Twyla (work)]**
> 
> "Speak the truth, speak it ever, cause it what it will, he who hides the wrong he does, does the wrong thing still." Proud of you, sweetie ❤

> **[Mom]**
> 
> Hey honey, seems like a lot happened last week. Just know I'm here for you. Call me.

> **[Alexis]**
> 
> Oooh Button, look at you! 😍🤗💕👏

  
  


He also had a dozen or so texts from other friends he rarely heard from, but he didn't care to check those.

All this communication must mean that Wendy actually published the article. He pulled up the Toronto Now! website, and sure enough, he was greeted by his own story. 

> **The Prince of Roses**
> 
> _By Patrick Brewer_
> 
> A great American classic romantic comedy once told me that to write well, you have to write what you know.
> 
> This is what I know. 
> 
> I am thirty years old. I have never really been in love. A nerd to the core, I spent most of my childhood years doing extra homework I requested from the teacher. I want to write real stories, let everyone's truth be known. 
> 
> Yes, it is slightly embarrassing to share this with the world. But it would be hard to explain what I learned, and how I learned it, without sharing my history. 
> 
> I received an assignment, my first as a reporter, to travel to Rosania and cover the Prince's ascension to, or abdication from, the throne. 
> 
> Understandably, my first major assignment was a dream come true. 
> 
> What I found? 
> 
> The truth is not what it seems. What is real is not what is always told.
> 
> Of course, at the center of this story is Prince David. 
> 
> This assignment would not have been the same without him. Rosania would not be the same without him. I would not have been the same without him. 
> 
> The Prince was hurt in my path to uncover facts, when I foolishly used lies to learn the truth. And though this article may serve as a step, it in no way makes up for what I did to him. 
> 
> To His Grace, I am so sorry.
> 
> And I would like to add one more thing.
> 
> I think I am in love with you. 
> 
> And so I propose this. As an ending to this article, and, perhaps a beginning to a new chapter in my life. I, Patrick Brewer, am not asking for your forgiveness. I'm not asking for your understanding. I'm just asking that you hear me when I say that this was never my intention. If you could do one last thing for me, one thing I absolutely do not deserve, it's five minutes for me to apologize. 
> 
> Five minutes may seem like a short time, but trust me, when you've been waiting thirty years to fall in love, it's usually the last five minutes that kill you. 
> 
> I went out to get the story and discovered that what you see isn't always what it seems. And then I discovered it wasn't so bad to be yourself. It wasn't so bad to be myself (despite the obvious irony). So now that I'm ready to start living the rest of my life in truth, it would be magical if I could live the rest of it with him. 
> 
> Because inside, everyone is afraid to be loved, and out there is the one person who can kiss us and make it all better.
> 
> And yes, this is absolutely based on the article that Josie wrote in the film Never Been Kissed. And despite this being taken from a Drew Barrymore classic, it doesn't make it any less true. I know that if anyone would appreciate that, it would be you, my Prince of Roses. 

  
  


Just below it, a headline read " **Prince David Ascends to King of Rosania**."

  
  


🌹

  
  


"So what are you gonna do now?" 

Twyla was sitting on Patrick's desk, watching him put things in a box. He paused, looking at a picture of him and his parents at his college graduation. He was so young and naïve. He sighed and put it in the box.

"No clue," he admitted. "I have enough saved to get me through another month, so I guess I'll work on some freelancing."

"I thought you weren't having any luck with that?" Mutt asked. 

"That was _before_ he went viral," Twyla grinned. "Now _everyone_ wants to publish Patrick Brewer, the King's consort!" Mutt snorted.

"I wasn't his _consort_ ," Patrick said, rolling his eyes. He sighed and added quietly, "I wasn't his anything."

" _Yet_!" 

"Ever." He was getting a little tired of Twyla's unfailing optimism.

"Hasn't the Princess been texting you constantly, though?" Mutt asked.

That was true. Alexis was trying to damnedest to keep in touch, despite Patrick telling her to let it go. Just because she was a princess didn't mean everyone got a happily ever after. 

Patrick scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm going to get lunch," he said. "You guys want to come?"

"I have a meeting with Wendy soon," Mutt apologized.

"I brought my lunch!" Twyla told him. "Don't forget to be back by two!"

"Yeah, I'll be here." Patrick wasn't particularly looking forward to his 'Going Away Party' planned for his last afternoon; it felt unearned, like he was being celebrated for leaving with his tail between his legs. But he knew Twyla and Mutt had made a big deal around the whole office, and he couldn't not be there. _Just go for the cake_ , he told himself. 

He stopped by a little sandwich shop around the corner from his office and grabbed a BLT. He took his time eating it, enjoying a full hour lunch while flipping through emails from publications interested in his writing. He may have lied to the person he cared about most and betrayed the only man he ever loved, but at least he could still work.

It was almost two, so Patrick headed back to the office for the last time. _Eat a piece of cake, say some goodbyes, and finish packing my desk_. Make this as painless as possible.

When he stepped off the elevator, the girl at the front desk was staring at him.

"Hey, Kelsey," he said with an awkward wave. She just nodded with big eyes and watched him walk past. Kelsey was a nice girl, just a little odd, always talking about horses.

There was a palpable hush around the office, everyone watching Patrick. He hated this about office parties-- whether it was your birthday, a promotion or any other reason, everyone made it out to be some big surprise. His cubicle was empty of coworkers, and as soon as he sat at his almost-cleared desk, Wendy's assistant Mandy rushed over.

"Patrick, they need you in conference room C," she told him in a low voice. "Like, now."

"Okay, okay," he said, hands raised defensively, all part of the ruse. 

The door to conference room C was closed, and Patrick took a breath, bracing himself for the shouts of 'surprise.' He opened the door, and _was_ surprised. It was empty. 

Except for one person.

"David," he gasped.

David stood in front of him, looking not as much like a king but everything like a deity: leather combat-style boots, fitted black slacks, and an impossibly soft-looking black [sweater](https://www.instagram.com/p/CMH8t-QHg38/?igshid=tt5e6e5amc7v) decorated with small wings embellished over his shoulders.

"Hello, Patrick." His perfect lips curled up to a sideways smile.

Patrick's brain short-circuited. "How-- Why-- What are you doing here?!"

"You asked for five minutes," David simply, raising his hands up at his sides. "You have them."

Five minutes. David had read the article.

"David," he started. "I mean, Your Grace. I never meant for any of this to happen. All I ever wanted was to tell your story, your _real_ story. But it all got so complicated and it's all my fault. I _never_ meant to lie to you, I would _never_ do anything to hurt you, I _love_ you--"

He stopped. He'd never said those words out loud before. Sure, he'd published them, put them out for the world to see, but he hadn't yet told the one person who mattered.

"Are you done?" King David asked. Patrick nodded dumbly. "Good. Then it's my turn to apologize." He took a step forward. "When Sebastian outed you as a reporter, I felt hurt, and betrayed, and like I absolutely deserved it. My whole life has been balanced on a double-edged sword, and nothing good came without pain. So of course, why wouldn't the one good thing I've had in a long time come without consequence?" Patrick opened his mouth to speak but David continued. "I talked to Alexis. Actually I was pestered by Alexis every day until I finally listened. She told me what she knew, what she'd asked of you. Your intentions." He took a step closer. "And then the papers you gave Ronnie. You knew I would someday want the gift from my father, no matter what it was. So you kept it for me. And when you saw what was in it, you knew what it meant. Not just to the country, or to me as the heir, but to me as a person. Because you always saw me as a person." Another step. "Then you published that article. You had so much information, so much you could have used to jump-start your career. But instead you wrote with humility, took responsibility, and quoted Drew Barrymore." David placed a hand on Patrick's shoulder. "You said that you think you're in love with me? Well, I came here to tell you that I _am_ in love with you."

Patrick took the final half-step forward to close the space between them. With a hand on the back of David's neck, he pulled them together into a passionate kiss. A kiss that said I'm sorry and I know and I forgive you and I love you. A kiss that Patrick never wanted to end.

But it did because the door swung open.

"Sorry to interrupt, Patrick," Twyla smiled from the doorway. "Hello, Your Majesty! I just wanted to let you know there's cake in the break room for you." 

Patrick turned to look back at David, still held tight in his arms. 

"What do you say, King David? Would you like some cake?"

🌹

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for going on this journey with me!


End file.
